The Cartographer's Return
by Schattenjagd
Summary: Years have passed since the cartographer Soread from Greenwood has left Imladris. Now he returns, driven by trust towards the Lord and the Lady of Rivendell and accompanied with secrets he wishes to keep. Sequel to 'The Cartographer from Greenwood'. Characters: Celebrian, Elrond, OC
1. 1: The Crossroad

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's work and I just borrowed some of the professor's characters. The plot, however, and those characters you do not recognize from Tolkien's work, belong to me**

 **Please read 'The Cartographer of Greenwood' before you read this.**

 **For those of you who read 'War of Elves': It takes place between chapters 2 and 3.**

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Long grass whispered in the soft wind wafting through its long halms. Small, unremarkable flowers adored some tips, opening in the warming day of beginning summer. In the midst of the green sea, a dry road crossing lay silent underneath the wide sky. A salamander sunning in the early warmth quickly scurried away when soft steps grew closer. Sand crunched under leather soles of a tall figure.

To call the elf approaching thin would have been an understatement. No, the tall figure was gaunt. Long hair caught the sunlight, reflecting it like polished silver, almost like a translucent mist, carried by the soft wisps of wind. The elf was clad in worn clothes, threadbare and indistinguishable in colour. Had the many tears not been held together by even, precise stitches, the shirt hanging off from narrow shoulders would be barely more than rags. Stains of dried blood discoloured the washed cloth, forever ingrained. The boots were almost falling into pieces as well, despite the improvised stitches along the seams. Two battered leather tubes were slung over the stranger's back and only the weapons by his side showed no sign of wear. And yet, despite his appearance, a soft tune danced over the elf's lips, a tune intermingling with the natural sounds around him.

Soread, the lonely cartographer who set out from the distant vastness of Greenwood the Great so many years ago, slowed his steps until he came to a halt, standing in the exact centre of the road crossing. The soft tune died from his lips as the keen eyes looked around. Years had passed since he had last stood at this very place, contemplating which way to turn. Before him, towards the east, a blue mountain range stood proud and tall, clad in green woods and bare rock, its many heads covered under white bonnets of icy snow, shining in the spring sun.

To his left, the road leading north, Soread knew Imladris, the Last Homely House, home to Lord Elrond. This was where he had come from the last time he had stood at this place. Twenty-four years had passed since, twenty-four years since he last exchanged a word with another elf.

"Ai, my Lord, had I just heeded your advice," Soread whispered, a shadow falling to his bright eyes as he looked down that path towards the forest.

Birds thrilled while the wood elf just stood still, contemplating once more which way he should turn to. Though he now wished he had heeded the elf Lord's advice and returned home, he once again found himself incapable of following that advice. Once more he stood here, torn. Closing his eyes, the tired elf listened to the song of his heart. He dreaded going home, still did. Instead, returning to the safety of Imladris, to the pure beauty and the generous welcome of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian struck cords within him. Yearning to feel that welcome, to receive the attention the beautiful couple had so amply bestowed upon him once again. He did not trust the Noldor fully, could not after what he knew about past interactions between them and the Royal Family of Greenwood, yet there was no denying that they had been gracious towards him, a lowly cartographer set out to follow his desires and escape his fears.

It was his aching stomach that tilted his final decision towards the northern path. Growling viciously, it reminded Soread of how little he had eaten and how his hosts had offered him food and shelter at his last visit. Feeling guilty for returning to take advantage of this offer, Soread still could not help but hope he would receive it again, feeling certain in the assumption upon thinking of Lady Celebrian's shock about his narrow frame. And so, with growling stomach and swift, sure feet and a guilty mind, Soread turned north. A smile adorned his young face once he walked down that path, looking forward to seeing Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian and the feeling of safety that had been stripped from him in the last years.

The trees were the first to greet him, recognizing him before he even stepped under their boughs. Their memories were ancient and they watched over the elves travelling through the woods. Too many elves for them to recall individually. But Silvan elves did not often venture into their shadows and Soread spoke freely and joyously to them. They remembered him clearly, the time passed since their last encounter irrelevant, a small period of time compared to their ancient roots. And so their deep rumbling voices echoed in his ears. Closing his eyes, the cartographer walked blindly, guided only by his friends. Rustling leaves accompanied his path.

As the miles melt away with each passing hour, a slight stiffness growing more pronounced with each passing milestone, the sun rose high into the sky. Sunlit patches adored the forest floor and the new leaves glowed with an intense green that touched the wood elf's heart deeper than all treasures of gold and germs ever could. It was just after the bright ball hanging high in the cloudless sky began to sink once more, that the trees spoke to Soread, bearing a message unlike the others before: _"There are elves ahead, mellon-nin. They are from Imladris and often travel here. If you go to them, we are certain they will lend you one of their riding animals. You are exhausted, mellon, and we want you to rest in peace."_

Their voices caused Soread to stop. Standing still, pressing his right arm slightly against his side, he tilted his head. The trees reassured him the elves were friends and that they would aid him, yet the cartographer just stood there. He wasn't sure if he wanted to speak with them. Dread filled his heart for no reason and Soread had to fight against it. Slowly, his hesitancy in crass contrast to his prior swiftness, the elf from Greenwood followed the trees' gentle probing and walked towards the group of Noldor.

The elves the trees had been referring to belonged to a hunting group, headed by the fabled balrog slayer Glorfindel of Gondolin. They had only stopped for a small break. Already they were moving around the small camp once more, saddling their proud stallions. Musical laughter rang through the air, jokes thrown around between friends and old comrades.

They did not notice the wood elf carefully approaching. For several seconds the cartographer stood leaning against a tree trunk, watching, soaking up the words spoken in a language he had not heard besides in rare soliloquies for many years. Sindarin was not his language of choice when indulging in conversations with himself. Silver eyes flittered over everyone present. The cartographer noticed the hunters' weapons, took note of their light armour and hunting garb, the sharp tips of spears leaning against trees further down. They had not been hunting for food, that much was clear. Yet their clothing was perfectly clean, no blood smeared upon the steel plates or staining the leather and fabric, no injuries speaking of battle.

His presence still unnoticed, Soread stayed still for several minutes. Only once the first elves started to mount their horses did he step forward. His lips quirked slightly because still his presence went unnoticed, even though he now stood not five meters away from them.

"Excuse me, my Lords," he raised his voice, his Sindarin accented after such long misuse.

Glorfindel twisted around, flinching at the sudden new voice. Instinctively, his hand moved towards the sword. He froze once his keen eyes settled on the unexpected intruder and then he relaxed slightly, allowing his hand to fall to his side. It was an elf. The balrog slayer's eyes narrowed and his thighs pressed against the flanks of his proud steed. The horse pranced around so that Glorfindel could face the strange elf without having to twist.

"Are you injured?" Was the first question to leave his lips even as his blue eyes searched the emaciated form of the other elf. The bright silver-blond hair had him frown, so did the silver eyes. No Noldo, that much was obvious, yet his Sindarin sounded too strange for him to be a Sinda either. An elf from Greenwood then, Glorfindel realised, though the clothing would not fit that ethnicity.

"I am," the elf admitted with a soft smile as he bowed his head. The warrior high up on the back of his mount felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest, a shiver running down his back upon seeing the soft smile. With one fluid motion, he swung his leg over the animal's neck and slid down. But the other elf, now on eye-level, continued: "Your concern honours you, my Lord, but my wounds shall be fine until Lord Elrond can take a look at them."

"Let me see," Glorfindel demanded, stepping closer. The strange elf sidestepped him with elegance, the smile still on his lips.

"I'd rather not, my Lord," the elf replied once the Noldo had frozen in surprise. "I trust Lord Elrond to take care of it once I reach Imladris."

A frown marred Glorfindel's brow. But at the same time, the elf before him met his eyes, fidgeting ever so slightly. Scanning him from head to toe, the Chieftain of Lord Elrond's forces took in the strong posture. Despite the thin frame, the foreign elf looked far from frail.

"If you are quite sure," the leader of the Noldorian patrol spoke reluctantly. He could not force his aid upon the other, not until it looked like there was no other way.

"I am, my Lord." The elf bowed again, the soft smile still on his lips, never leaving.

"You know Lord Elrond?"

"Our paths have crossed before, my Lord."

Hesitantly turning, not letting the injured one out of his sight, Glorfindel asked: "What is your name?"

"I am Soread, my Lord."

Glorfindel had to admit, this constant 'my Lord' was starting to grate on him. The Noldor did not usually call him that, at very least not with every sentence they spoke directed to him.

"Can you ride?"

"Yes, my Lord."

The older elf signalled to one of his companions to hand him the reins of his horse. Quickly informing the hunting party that he'd accompany the foreign elf to Imladris, he then mounted his horse once more, waiting until Soread had done the same. The wood elf pressed his arm against his side as he swung upon the horse's back, sighing soundlessly once he could take his weight off his right leg. Letting neither his relief nor the discomfort of his almost healed wounds show, the cartographer subconsciously checked if the two tubes were still securely held on his back by his chest belt. Feeling the second belt buckle over his chest, he knew his daggers in place as well. His hands then fell to his sides, checking on his long knives.

The trees continued to whisper to him, encouraging his choice to return to Imladris even though the mapper himself already felt uncertainty creep up his spine with long icy fingers. Instead of focusing on his doubts, the wood elf decided to enjoy the beauty of the forest around him. It was young compared to Greenwood and Soread quickly steered his thoughts into a different direction, unwilling to think of his long-abandoned home right now.

The light danced in bright spots over the forest floor, covered in thick leaves of the autumn passed, buried under snow for the winter and only now starting to disintegrate. The horses' hooves sounded muted against the thick resilient layer. Prancing in a gentle rhythm, they would reach their destination quickly without exhausting the horses. Soread remembered the area well even though he had never actually mapped it. A storm had driven him to Imladris in a hurry at his last visit, advice he had hoped to heed had driven him away almost just as quickly, only for the advice to be forsaken once he had actually stood before the road crossing. He had never taken the time to scout and draw the area surrounding Imladris' itself, instead now having seen all of Eriandor.

The day passed quickly. Soon they left the forest, Glorfindel leading him down the valley. From down there, the wood elf could see the narrow path hugging the cliffside to his right, the path he had taken the last time.

Trusting the balrog slayer's guidance left Soread to let his mind wander. His stomach was clenching painfully in his abdomen and he pulled out a few young leaves from the small bag attached to his chest belt. Putting them into his mouth, he began chewing, ignoring the bitter taste that spread quickly across his tongue.

The sun was still high in the sky when the breath-taking city came into few. The sound of falling water intermingled with birds' song, rushing in a constant, calming stream down the mountain face, flowing around the archways, bridges, houses, free places and towers of the city of Imladris.

The way leading up the hill was steep, long slopes cut into the end of the valley. No horns sounded, no bells announced their coming. Only a guard stepped aside once they approached, signalling them to ride straight through the open gate. Imladris was welcoming to everyone.

Here, Soread knew his way around. He had mapped this city, adding it as a small picture to the maps he had gifted Lord Elrond when he had left. The greenwood elf led his horse towards the large house of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, riding past the grand house of healing and the guest house and onto the courtyard. Swiftly glancing towards the narrow bridge leading to the narrow path hugging the rockface, Soread let the reigns loose. Petting the white horse's neck, he smiled.

Soread felt his heart blossom as he dismounted the steed. Just a few meters ahead, three steps led up to the large entrance doors, standing wide open and allowing the spring breeze into the Entrance Hall. The courtyard itself was covered with coarse sand but the gardens opened just behind it. Large trees spend shadow further in, curved metal arches acting as beautiful stakes for full roses in vibrant hues of red, yellow, white. The smell of their open flowers was light in the air, not oppressive yet always present. Birds were singing loudly, chirping in the trees. And in the flower beds, small buds were beginning to open, stretching the petals hidden inside.

Gently brushing through his mount's mane, Soread stepped past the stallion. He had known Imladris was beautiful, but the beauty of spring still took his breath, so unlike the impressive resilience the city had shown during the autumn storms.

He saw Glorfindel dismount as well, handing the horses' reins to the equerry who had casually walked over with a spring in his step.

Allowing his gaze to wander over the sunlit façade of the main house, the sudden urge to draw took a hold of the cartographer. A bird started singing and Soread's eyes started searching for the small being – Soread was certain it had to be a goldfinch. Instead of finding the bird nestled in the tops of a tree, the young traveller found his attention drawn to something else. There, in the gardens, the beautiful Lady of Imladris, Celebrian, gentle yet strong, Lady of Imladris and wife to Lord Elrond Peredhil, knelt before one of the flower beds, tending the plants. Soread's smile grew wider, his eyes lighting up with true joy. He walked towards the archway to the garden, stopping just outside.

"My fair Lady!" He called and Celebrian raised her head. She looked up and down before she spotted Soread standing beyond the archway. For one moment, their eyes met and the cartographer's smile turned into an amused grin which some would describe as feral. He raised his hand towards his chest, bowing his head in deep respect. "Forgive my intrusion into your home, my Lady. I hope I have not –"

"Soread?" Celebrian interrupted his polite words. Uncertainty rang in her voice, but not even a second later, the beautiful she-elf jumped to her feet. "Soread!" She smiled as brightly as the sun, her hair floating behind her as she now raced towards him, joyous as if she were a little girl.

"Oh Soread! It really is you!" She only stopped for one moment to look him up and down, a frown already finding its way back on her face still dominated by her open smile. Then, she embraced him. She felt the younger elf stiffen under her touch, felt him draw back ever so slightly before he froze completely. For several seconds she held on before drawing back.

"It is so good to see you, Soread! I am glad you came back!" The younger elf once more bowed his head, his eyes moist. He breathing suddenly sounded a bit choked. Celebrian felt her heart ache for the young mapper, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. The bones stood out harshly underneath the thin layer of washed-out fabric.

"It is good to see you," she repeated her earlier sentiment, this time more softly. No words left her lips concerning the state of her young guest, even though her eyes took in the stitches in his clothing, the ragged tears, the washed-out colour. It was the shirt they had provided the cartographer with at his last visit. Twenty-four years ago.

"Let us go to the kitchens, you must be hungry." As if to confirm her suggestion, Soread's stomach growled loudly. The elf quickly pressed a hand against his abdomen as if that could suppress the sound.

"I … thank you, my Lady. Thank you." Soread's guilt returned tenfold. At the same time, he felt so safe like he had not in a long time. It was as if a weight he had not known he burdened was unexpectedly lifted from his shoulders, leaving him shaking with exhaustion. The tiredness rushed over him so suddenly that he stumbled, Lady Celebrian grasping his arm.

"Soread?" She inquired gently and the wood elf felt even worse.

"Please, my Lady, do not worry. I will be fine."

"But you are not right now. My dear friend, we told you our home is always open to you."

Soread smiled. "I remember your kindness all too clearly, my Lady. Had you not invited me back, I would never have dared to return here. I do not wish to be a burden to you."

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 _ **Please review!**_

 **A big thank you to my beta(s) SamGreg!**


	2. 2: Of Elflings' Play

"Celebrian!" Glorfindel's yell held them back as they walked towards the house. The elf jogged towards them. "I shall accompany you."

The fair Lady frowned and quickly refused: "There is no need. Soread is an old friend of mine." At this, the balrog-slayer quickly looked the greenwood elf up and down.

"Are you quite certain? I do not wish for harm to come upon you."

"Glorfindel!" Celebrian bellowed, shocked by her friend's rudeness.

"It is alright, my Lady," she was interrupted before she could admonish the fair warrior before her. "Lord Glorfindel is indeed right. No offence is given. I give you my word that I have no intention to bring harm to anyone residing in this valley. Yet, despite this, I shall refuse to relinquish any of my weapons to you. They are to remain at my side and should this not be possible, I shall take my leave immediately." Soread's smile was as amicable as if he were talking about the weather.

The Lady of Imladris turned around to the mapper, bestowing him with a fiery glare that caused the younger elf to wince slightly and back away. "You shall do no such thing, Soread! You are utterly exhausted! I insist you at the very least stay the night. And no one is asking you to give up any of your possessions, be it weapons or anything else, is that understood, Glorfindel? I explicitly trust Soread and I will not have you question his intentions. It is not his first visit and had he wished to bring injury upon us, he would have had ample opportunity to do so."

To Glorfindel's credit, he did not take any of her harsh words personally. Instead, he smiled towards the cartographer and quickly brought his hand towards his chest, bowing deeply in an apology before he quickly turned away.

When Celebrian turned back to the traveller, she began to suspect she should not have been so harsh to Glorfindel. Soread smiled at her somewhat nervously, fidgeting, his fingers moving without grasping anything.

"I apologize, Soread," the she-elf quickly said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I did not intend to make you uncomfortable."

"T'is fine, my Lady. I am just not used … It has been so long since I last spoke with … I mean …." Celebrian squeezed his shoulder, understanding what he wanted to say.

"Ah, Celebrian!" Glorfindel stopped and turned around once more, speaking just loud enough for his voice to carry across the distance between them. "He is injured. He would not allow me to have a look." With that, the balrog-slayer vanished.

"You are injured?"

"I have already taken care of my injuries, my Lady. They shall be fine until the morrow. I had been hoping Lord Elrond could have a look at them then."

Celebrian frowned yet did not attempt to contradict him. Instead she just said softly: "If you need anything, just tell me. Or just help yourself in the hospital wing."

"You leave!" The yell interrupted the two and a dark-haired elf stumbled through the door, a wide grin spreading over his face.

"Oh, you just don't want to admit it, do you, brother-mine?" The elf teased, quickly darting aside when his twin stormed out with mock anger on his face, eyes sparkling like the sun.

"Trust me, I have no reason to –"

"Elladan, Elrohir!" Celebrian admonished exasperated. Sheepishly, the two elves turned to face their mother.

"Nana, you see –"

"We were not truly fighting, nana, we swear!"

Their mother could not help but chuckle at her sons' antics as they now stood before her, looking as innocent as possible.

"I hope you have not forgotten all of your manners. We have a guest: This is Soread from Greenwood. He will be staying here for a while. Soread, these two rascals are my sons, Elrohir and Elladan."

Two identical pairs of eyes shifted to the ragged wood elf, standing in torn and sullied clothing next to their elegant mother. The foreign elf had his brow furrowed and eyed them openly.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Soread," Elladan hurried to make a good impression, bowing deeply, his hand against his chest. Next to him, Elrohir mirrored the movement.

"We have heard much about you. Our father only speaks of you and your maps in the highest tones," Elrohir added with a smile.

Meanwhile, Soread just stared at them, blinking quickly. It took several seconds before he answered: "Thank you." His words were so soft Celebrian nearly missed them and she saw her sons exchange a glance before looking up at her.

"You may go. Please remember to be back in time for dinner," the Lady quickly defused the awkward situation. Her children bowed once more, before calmly walking away, glancing back over their shoulder. In the meantime, Celebrian turned to her guest. The elf was polite to a fault. For him to not have spoken at all … never before had she seen him so rude and impolite. Admittingly she had not even considered the well-spoken elf _capable_ of such behaviour and she was uncertain why Soread had refused to even greet Elladan and Elrohir. But the cartographer did not even seem to notice her attention had shifted to him. He stood in front of the main doors as rigidly as a statue.

"All the pain I have come to suffer … and here … they have not lived through a single day of it, where I know years of torture. Ai, I look upon them and see only elflings play. Never have I known such jealousy …" Soread's voice was barely above a whisper, dark and raspy, as he continued to stare after Celebrian's sons. The she-elf relaxed but could not help for the words to touch her deeply.

The twins had started to chase each other, dodging and laughing before Elladan threw his arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him by his side. The Lady of Imladris followed her guest's gaze, the gratefulness rushing through her like she had not ever experienced it before. Yes, they were happy and safe.

"Torture, Soread?" She barely found the courage to ask. The cartographer tore his silver eyes from the two figures skidding down the stairs into a lower courtyard and turned his head to look at her, causing her to mirror his actions. His lips were parted in wonder and his eyes wide. Then, his features set, calm like the distant wind.

"Sticks and stones and leather rope, will break my skin and tear my flesh, knives will slice and swords will shatter, yet I ask of you to bear the pain, stand strong against the evil beasts, for hope is not at end. We leave no elf behind and be it for the last night stand. So suffer, warrior, day and night, and know we fight for you alone. No promise for your life, yet a promise for the fight." Soread slowly recited a poem, his smooth voice devoid of any emotion as he slipped into a mixture of speech and song. An accent Celebrian had not witnessed before coloured his tongue and made the words even more impressionable. He held the Lady's attention and his bright eyes glowed like the full moon in a dark night. A violent shiver ran down the she-elf's back and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist. She blinked more quickly even as she attempted to dispel the goose bumps that had come to cover her arms. Soread still stared at her, his eyes now flickering across her face. The poem the Silvan had recited spoke to her very soul and it pained her to realise that these words had often passed her guest's lips.

As if sensing her thoughts, Soread pulled his shoulders up and turned away. "I'd rather not talk about it further, my Lady. I apologize for having brought such words into your beautiful valley to begin with. They are but memories now."

Celebrian wanted to ask about the poem, wanted to ask what it truly meant. She wanted to ask what kind of torture the young elf had had to endure and when his youth had been ripped away from him in such form. Yet she knew these would be steps taken too far. Despite all sympathies between them and the friendly relationship they had established at his last visit, they still only barely knew each other. Such trust simply had never had the chance to grow between them as of yet. That, and he had just arrived in Imladris not even ten minutes ago.

It was Soread who once again tore the fair Lady out of her paining thoughts: "Still, I should not have allowed my wonder to overcome my manners, my Lady. Forgive me for treating your sons with such disrespect. I shall make sure to issue them the same apology the next time I find myself able to approach them without being a disruption." The amicable smile had returned to the traveller's features, adoring his lips and twinkling across the silver lakes of his eyes. His soft words were accompanied by a short bow of the head.

"Don't worry about it. You just arrived and my sons know that new arrivals are often weary from their travels and do not make perfect conversation partners before they've had the chance to rest. Speaking of which: Shall we go inside? I have no doubt they still remember you in the kitchens and our chef will be able to prepare you a meal." She left unmentioned that his meal would once more consist of simple, bland food so that the elf would be able to stomach it. But of course, her meaning was not lost and all Soread did was bow his head in affirmation, confirming her suspicions that he had grown unaccustomed to food during the years passed. Elrond would be displeased once he heard of it. The healer had taken to the cartographer and worried, not just when he had been a guest but also during the years of absence.

Once they stepped into the Entrance Hall, Soread's eyes flittered to the stairs leading up and then to the door leading to the Hall of Fire. It was as if he were expecting something to happen. Or rather, someone to come out and greet him.

"Elrond is on a hunt," Celebrian said as if she had read his thoughts. The traveller smiled sheepishly.

"Forgive me, my Lady. I did not wish to give the impression your presence is unappreciated."

She spoke to quickly reassure him: "You have not. But I know you and my husband got along very well and that you trust him. I am certain he will be delighted to know you have returned once he comes back. He thinks very highly of you and speaks about you often. He should come back sometime tonight or tomorrow morning if everything went as he had hoped."

The she-elf led Soread towards the stairs leading down into the basement. From the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked bread protruded into the dark but wide hallways. The kitchen itself was a large room, filled with many high desks. Windows directly under the ceiling allowed for the smells to escape and for sunshine to cast long shadows over the supplies covering the tables. Two chefs were preparing the dough for tomorrows bread, kneading it with expertise, singing a quick, happy tune as they worked. Meanwhile, another chef just took the freshly baked bread out of the stone oven, spreading it out to cool until dinner time arrived. Kitchen maids were handling their knives cutting vegetables and herbs for a stew with such proficiency, many warriors would blanch in fright and shame. Another chef was skinning rabbits, handing them over to a she-elf who joined only the high tunes of the song while she merrily cut the meat from the bones and portioned it into even sizes.

She felt Soread hesitate, slink back against the walls. He winced slightly.

"There are too many people here, my Lady," he murmured, his gaze jumping from one elf to the next. He had his hand raised to his chest, his fingers playing with the artfully crafted buckle of the chest belt holding the two leather tubes and his knives to his back.

Celebrian admitted to herself she had not considered the possibility of Soread disliking the idea of being in a room with that many people. Even though, now as she thought about it, it kind of made sense. For years he had travelled alone in the wilderness, unaccustomed to any company besides that of animals daring to come close. How long had it been since he last even spoke to another being capable of supplying him with an answer? No wonder he was uncomfortable. Grateful for the fact that he had admitted his weakness instead of attempting to brave on, she calmly told him to wait in the hallway for her. Just as he retreated, a shy she-elf cutting parsley root and parsnips noticed her presence.

"Lady Celebrian," she spoke with wide eyes, quickly setting her knife aside and walking around the table. "How may I help you?"

"Hello, Jeweth," the gracious daughter of Galadriel replied with a bright smile. "I do not wish to interrupt your work, yet we have a guest. You might remember him, as I recall you brought him his food at his last visit: Soread, the cartographer from Greenwood. I require something to eat for him. Something easy to stomach just as you prepared at his last visit."

Already, Jeweth moved to collect the items needed. "Will a vegetable broth suffice?"

"Do you have any fresh fruit as well?" Celebrian asked, remembering her husband's words about uncooked and fresh foods.

"Of course. Let me cut these apricots right away and I can give them to you. I will start with the broth afterwards. It shouldn't take longer than a few minutes. Do you want me to bring the broth up to the guest quarters?" Even as she was speaking, Jeweth was already washing and slicing the apricots, adding them to a small porcelain dish. Her hands were moving so fast that Celebrian could not help but stare at them with some sort of fascination. The maid also added some of the early strawberries to the sea of orange. Barely a few seconds after she finished talking, Jeweth already handed the bowl to the Lady of Imladris.

"Actually, I think he will sleep in the hospital wing tonight. Would you mind bringing the broth up once it is finished?" She doubted the traveller would manage to stay awake long enough for them to prepare his rooms for him. Soread looked dead on his feet, despite his constant smile.

After hearing her confirmation, Celebrian left the kitchens. Silver eyes snapped up to her once she opened the door and Soread pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. His attention almost immediately shifted to the fruits. Licking his lips subconsciously, the mapper's stomach growled loudly. Worried, the she-elf handed him the dish. Murmuring a quiet "Thank you", Soread shoved the first slice of apricot into his mouth.

"Don't forget to chew." The elf visibly attempted to slow down and after a few bites, he managed to do so.

"Jeweth is preparing a broth for you and will bring it up as soon as it is finished," Celebrian explained and took back the porcelain bowl. Soread blushed but nodded his head in thanks.

"Do you need anything?" Celebrian asked once they entered the empty hospital wing. Light flooded through large windows, a light breeze carrying the smell of the evening with it. Pristine white sheet covered each bed. Several doors were opening into different rooms. Some were private rooms for patients, two were large bathrooms, another led to the operation theatre with the large glass panels allowing light in and another to the equipment room.

"Nay, my Lady, thank you. I shall be fine. Thank you for being so gracious to welcome me back so openly, despite the fact I arrived without giving notice beforehand."

"Shush! You really have to stop apologizing all the time. You did nothing wrong. And please, do call me Celebrian."

The elf chuckled darkly, the sound so pure and rare, Celebrian felt her heart lift at the sound.

"Celebrian."

The elegant she-elf sat with her guest as he slowly ate his broth which Jeweth had brought up. The warm meal visibly tired him out even further and soon, Celebrian had to reach over to avoid the last spoonful of broth to spill on the floor, the cartographer's fingers slackened in nearing sleep.

"Go to bed, mellon-nin. There is a fresh tunic on the bedside table and I will find you new clothing for tomorrow. Yours are beyond mending, I am afraid."

The elf smiled and stood, opening the chest belt clasp and his belt buckle, carefully setting his gear aside.

"Sleep well, mellon. It is good to have you back. May the stars watch over you."

"And over you, my … Celebrian." The elf drew his hand to his chest in an elegant movement, bowing his head as he did so.

While the Lady of Imladris left him to sleep, Soread stiffly shed his frayed shirt and toed his shoes off. Gently prodding the bandages around his torso and right arm, he decided to change them before bed. Not having had access to fresh linen, he had had no other choice but to simply wash them before wrapping them around his wound once more. Lord Elrond truly need not see the miserable state of these bandages when he checked on his wounds on the next day. Quickly finding fresh cloth, the wood elf changed his bandages, carefully washing his wounds. The soiled bandages he threw into a bin before he discarded his trousers as well, sighing slightly as he pulled the soft fabric of the night shirt over his head. Warmth immediately swamped his thin frame. Tired to the bone, warm and his stomach full for the first time in years, even the softness of the bed which gave him the impression he was sinking could not stop the elf from slipping into a deep sleep before he even managed to fully pull the blanket over his body. Silver eyes closed and then opened again in elvish sleep, glanced over, yet half-way lidded in exhaustion. A soft smile played on thin lips and all conscious thought escaped him.

* * *

 _ **Please review!**_

 **Thanks to my beta(s) SamGreg!**


	3. 3: The Lord's Return

"How is our guest, Nana? Will he not join us for dinner?" Elladan asked, hesitating to begin with dinner even while his twin was already reaching for the parsnips.

"Nay. His travels have tired him and he is recuperating. Though I am sure he will be joining us for lunch tomorrow." The she-elf unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap before she accepted to bowl of carrots Elrohir was handing her.

Evening had arrived with surprising swiftness for Celebrian. She had kept busy searching through some of Elladan's and Elrohir's old clothes to find something fitting for the smaller cartographer. She could have simply gone down to the seamstress and asked for new clothes, yet if she had something made for Soread, she wanted to be sure it would be something he would like. And the clothes she had picked out had barely ever been worn by her sons anyway.

Meanwhile, the servants had cleaned out the guest room and lit a fire in the long cold fireplace. The licking flames were heating up the thick walls still held in clawed clutches of the remnants of winter.

The dinner bell had rung when she had still been putting the few sets of clothing into the wardrobe in Soread's chambers.

Dinner passed with Celebrian deep in thoughts. She attempted to reign in her concern that had overwhelmed her the second she had set eyes upon Soread, but his emaciated frame was hard to ignore. She hoped the injuries he had really were as minor as he claimed though Soread had no history of hiding his injuries here. He appeared too honest to ever do that.

"Nana, may we be excused?" Elrohir asked with impatience and his mother looked up. Celebrian brushed wavy hair behind her pointed ear and nodded, a smile on her lips, though it reached no further.

Her sons jumped to their feet and left the hall with eagerness. They had arranged to meet with their friends tonight and to go to the High River overlooking Imladris. Their mother knew them to be careful and aware of the dangers the cliffside and the rushing water presented, therefore she did not tell them to be cautious. Elladan and Elrohir would camp at the riverside with their friends as they had done many times before. Celebrian had just insisted they would return in time for breakfast, seeing as their father was due to arrive back sometime tonight.

After a soft conversation with Lindir, who was to take over Lord Erestor's assignments during the Lord's stay in Lindon, the Lady of Imladris left the Dining Hall as well. She wanted to check on Soread, if only to qualm her worries.

The healing ward shone darkly as she approached, no patient residing there besides the young mapper. Celebrian opened the door and slipped inside, immediately noticing the open windows. Night chill invaded the large room, yet the rustling leaves, the constant chirping of crickets and the song of an owl spoke volumes as to why the wood elf had chosen to open it. Wind brushed against the façade of the house, rattling some lose roof tiles and the wooden wind chimes in the gardens across the courtyard. Besides the noises, bright moonlight spilled into the room, covering everything in a silent blanket.

Celebrian took two steps into the room and halted in surprise. Before her stood two rows of neatly made beds with one exception. Yet instead of harbouring a sleeping wood elf, said bed too was empty, the blanket halfway falling to the floor and the sheets loose and crumbled. Still, the elf was missing.

"Soread?" Celebrian asked breathlessly, feeling her heart pick up speed in her chest even as the worry dug its painful claws against it. Surely the elf was just using the facilities, she told herself. Still, she quickly strode to the bed, intending to double check if maybe the moonlight was playing tricks on her and the cartographer was simply hidden by the crumbled blanket. He wasn't though.

Scanning the room, she quickly found the two battered leather tubes leaning against the neighbouring bed. By their side were Soread's weapons; his long twin long swords and his matching daggers. He would not have left without them.

Celebrian was about to turn around and check the lavatories when she saw it. Saw a hand extend from beneath the bed, the fingers bend in relaxation. From _beneath_ the bed. Celebrian's heart skipped several beats and her eyes widened. She cursed loudly, threw herself to the ground, felt the solid stone pressing against her chest, cold seeping through her clothes like water. Looking under the bed, she found the missing elf.

He was on his side. His eyes closed, his arms on the cold ground in front of him, his legs drawn up. His shoulder was nearly touching the underside of the bed and his silver hair drew a glowing halo around his head.

"Soread!" Celebrian gasped, reaching out, grasping a cold hand.

The cartographer startled awake. Quicker than Celebrian could look, the traveller had backed away, his eyes impossibly wide, his hand ripped away from her grasp. He pushed from underneath the bed, scrambled away until he hit the frame of the bed beyond. For one moment, Celebrian could only see his feet, his legs pulled against the narrow chest. Her hand still reaching underneath the bed, the she-elf forgot to breathe and closed her eyes in relief. He was alright.

When she opened her eyes once more, Soread was climbing back to his feet.

"My Lady?" he asked, his voice just an added whisper to the wind. Hastily, Celebrian stood back up, searching the elf bathed in moonlight. The sleeping tunic was hanging from his frame and revealed bandages on his right shoulder. His hair war mussed up, the small braids taken out. Goosebumps stood out in the harsh moonlight, covering his neck and shoulder.

"Are you alright? Are you fine?" The Lady had to stop herself from touching the mapper to check.

"You needn't worry 'bout me, my fair Lady," Soread quickly attempted to dissuade her, almost sounding shy, an attitude that did not seem to fit the confident mapper. He did not give any reassurances to his well-being as the older elf could not help to realise.

Celebrian quirked a brow, not amused. "Are we going to ignore the fact that you were sleeping _underneath_ the bed?"

The Silvan raised a hand to scratch his shoulder, the gesture a subconscious effort to bring his hands between himself and his host. He looked down at the rumpled sheets, his face nothing but a mask.

"The bed was too soft, my Lady. I felt as if I were drowning. I have grown accustomed to the harshness a bed on the ground provides."

Celebrian's features softened. She was not led astray; The bed's mattress might have been a reason for sleeping on the floor, it was not, however, a reason to sleep underneath the bed. Narrow as the space between ground and bed was, no elf would willingly sleep with a roof so closely above him. She scanned her guest more closely, taking in the shadows underneath his eyes, the way he avoided looking at her. He was so clearly uncomfortable, glancing over to the window and the doors every few seconds.

The female elf sighed deeply, bringing a sad smile on her face. Soread did not look as if he would be able to find rest anew. His body was strung like a bow string, his shoulders tense. His hair had drawn net-like marks on his right temple; the only pillow he had had.

"Shall we go down to the Hall of Fire?" She asked, not attempting to press the issue further. Her heart was calming in her chest with each passing minute. "It is quite chilly in here."

Surprise flittered over his face, then a gentle smile softened the moon-hardened features and he nodded, his hands falling to his sides.

Celebrian left the healing ward, feeling Soread follow on soundless, naked feet. He almost looked like a wraith, clad only in the long sleeping tunic.

She stoked the fire and added a few logs, signing her guest to take a seat on the couch before the fire. Noticing his awkwardness about being only dressed in a sleeping tunic, she threw him a blanket. Going back to stocking the fire though it wasn't necessary, she allowed him to get comfortable without her attention on him. When she turned back, he had pulled his feet up on the couch, wrapped in the wine-red blanket which almost appeared black in the darkness.

* * *

Elrond stepped through the wide doors into the Entrance Hall. The wind rushed through the small opening and his long clothing pulled on his slim figure, only to abide once the door fell shut behind him. Tiredly, the Lord of Imladris brushed his wind-disturbed hair out of his face. His armour was growing heavier by the minute. He was about to head towards the stairs climbing up in the silver-coated Entrance Hall, the moonlight filtering in through the large windows, when he saw light come from underneath the door leading to the Hall of Fire. Wondering if anyone would still be awake at this hour – after all, it was closer to dawn than to dusk – the healer sighed before he walked towards the door. Pushing it open, his armour creaking slightly with each movement, he stepped through. Only a small fire was lit in the large fireplace. The sofa directly in front of it was occupied and Elrond instantly recognized his beloved wife. She turned her head, having heard him enter.

"Have you waited for me, my love?" Elrond asked darkly, a loving smile having appeared on his lips.

"Elrond," his wife smiled back at him. Her hair shone like liquid gold in the light of the fire dancing across her beautiful features. "It is good you are back. We have a guest." Her smile deepened, and Elrond felt slight dread upon seeing anticipating amusement sparkle in her eyes. Slowly walking around the couch, the healer wondered what kind of guest there could possibly be, seeing as no one was in sight. His attention settled on the figure almost instantly and he froze in his step. Brown eyes widened, and his mouth opened soundlessly, staring down at the young elf. Said elf was thin, a fact that even the soft blanket covering him could not deny. Silver hair, so unlike that of any Noldo or Sinda, spilled over slim shoulders, framing a fair face, accentuating bright eyes, halfway lidded in obvious exhaustion. His head resting in Celebrian's lap, a hand coming up in sleep and holding onto her knee. It was Soread, the young cartographer Elrond had befriended so quickly.

"Soread!" He exclaimed finally, rushing forward to kneel in front of him. His healer's instinct screamed at him for seeing the elf's narrow frame, to see the way his lids covered his eyes almost completely.

The cartographer shot up at the sound, suddenly wide awake. Elrond felt a hand against his chest, pushing him away while wide eyes stared blankly at him. Then the grip slackened as the mapper became aware of his surroundings. He blinked several times and the elf Lord smiled, not daring to move. Soread's hand still resting against his chest as he patiently waited and only after two seconds did the traveller blush. His fingers twitched against Elrond's chest plate.

"My Lord Elrond," Soread breathed relieved, all tenseness washing away from his body. Celebrian's hand rested on his shoulder, though he did not appear to notice, for suddenly he leaned forward and embraced the astounded Lord of Imladris. The elf slumped against him, one arm wrapped around his neck. Blinking quickly, the Noldo hurried to return the embrace, careful to not crash the fragile body against the harsh coldness of his armour. He looked at his wife over the wood elf's shoulder, raising a brow. A frown adored Celebrian's face, her hand still resting on Soread's shoulder. She met his gaze and shrugged, but the worry in her face told her husband there were things he did not know.

"Forgive my impulsiveness, my Lord," Soread whispered softly when he had drawn back, lowering his eyes to look at his hands.

"There is nothing to forgive. It is very good to see you again," Elrond smiled, truly happy to have the cartographer back in Imladris as a guest. "I had almost given up hope to ever see you again, my friend. This is truly a joyous surprise."

The traveller smiled his usual amicable smile, bowing his head in slight thanks. He then raised his hand and rubbed his eyes, blinking the sleepiness away.

"How have you been, mellon-nin?" Elrond wondered, raising to his feet and taking a seat next to the younger elf, ignorant of the stiffness of his armour.

For a moment, the elf did not answer. Then he said: "I have been fine, my Lord." That was all. The healer's brows rose. Not quite knowing what to reply to such a short answer, he turned to face the fire once more, wondering if he should just allow his guest to go back to sleep.

"I have not had the strength to heed your advice, my Lord," a soft voice admitted beside him, full of shame. Suddenly, Elrond understood his friends' dread, though of course it was completely unfounded. He worried too much, the young cartographer.

"You did not disappoint me, Soread," Elrond gave back gently, earning a wry smile and a short shrug. Still, the elf's shoulders dropped slightly as he relaxed.

"I should have followed your advice, my Lord."

"So many years have passed and you still call me that?" Elrond decided to change the subject, chuckling amused about the term 'my Lord'.

"Habit, my … Elrond," Soread spoke before he turned away and put his hand before his mouth to hide a wide yawn.

"How about I get us some tea before we all head back to bed?" Elrond's bones ached as he rose to his feet, weary from the hunt he had just returned from. Sometimes, he did feel every single of the years he had experienced. He wondered how the race of men could bear this weight every single day.

Leaning down, he finally kissed his wife, not at all inhibited by Soread's presence. He barely ever exchanged caresses with his wife if any of their children were present, yet with the cartographer, the healer did not feel the same need to hide his fondness. The elf, though surely no older than his sons, was way more grown in behaviour and never seemed to mind.

In the darkness outside the Hall of Fire, Elrond's steps took the way down to the kitchen in the bowels of the grand house without conscious thought. As always, the blaze of a dying fire still warmed the steel cooking plates and Elrond stocked the ashes, adding a small log on top. Boiling the water only took a few minutes and the healer's skilled hands quickly prepared three cups of teas. He hesitated and then added valerian, a few drops of hops extract, lemongrass, lavender, passion flower and linden flower to one of the cups. Soread had looked exhausted and the fact he had slept with his head pillowed on his wife's lap was confirmation enough for Elrond that the elf had trouble sleeping.

When he returned, still wearing his full armour with his weapons attached to a dark belt around slim hips, balancing a tray with three mugs in his hands, the first thing he heard was Celebrian's gentle voice. Soread had shifted to look at her, listening intently to her every word. Every now and then his lips twitched into a tired smile and as the healer stepped in, his young guest asked a question too quiet for him to hear. Celebrian laughed and told the cartographer of what one of the children in Imladris' school had been up to.

Elrond placed the tray on the side table, handing one cup to his wife. He was about to hand the sleeping tea to Soread, but then he stopped himself. Had the elf been his son or one of his patients, he would have no qualms about drugging him. But he wasn't. He was his guest and his friend and he knew the elf to be responsible and never once complaining about medication Elrond had deemed necessary.

"Soread," he therefore spoke, catching the mapper's attention. "This tea will help put you to sleep. You look tired and I want you to have a full night's rest. Excuse me if I am assuming too much, but as a healer, I think it is prudent."

"Your words speak truth, as always, my Lord. I thank you for your consideration. You have my full trust to know what is best for me. Thank you." The cartographer accepted the tea, taking a tentative sip.

It wasn't long before the elf started drifting asleep. Elrond and Celebrian had fallen into silence, sitting on both sides of their guest, both staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts.

"My Lady, my Lord?" Soread's quiet voice caught their attention when the remains of their tea were beginning to cool.

"Yes, Soread?"

"Would you be so kind and do me a favour? I do not wish to ask too much –"

"Just ask, mellon." Elrond chuckled seeing as his young friend was barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Would you mind talking, my Lady, my Lord? It has been so long since I heard an elven voice, since I heard the words of our beautiful language. Please, it would sooth my heart."

Exchanging a long glance, Elrond began asking his wife about the happenings in the village during his absence. Once they ran out of news to tell each other, Celebrian began singing softly. With a soft smile, staring into the fire and nursing the last swallows of his tea, Elrond enjoyed her voice, feeling exhausted himself, yet happy to be at home. And happy to have his long-missed friend back here, who was now truly falling asleep, his head resting against the Noldo's back.

* * *

 _ **Please review!**_

 **Thanks to my beta(s) SamGreg!**


	4. 4: Names of Westron Tongue

Elrond was staring into the fire. His elbows braced upon his knees, he thoughtfully toyed the cold mug in his hands. Slightly turning his head, the elf Lord squinted down at Soread, whose head rested against his back.

"Is he alright?" He asked with worry visibly upon his brow, glancing up to meet his wife's eyes.

"We should get him to bed," Celebrian muttered instead of a reply. "We will see how he is doing tomorrow once he has had the chance to sleep."

"When did he arrive?" the healer questioned, his brows drawn together creating a deep crease.

"Yesterday afternoon. He said he is injured but wanted to wait for you to take care of his wounds. Apparently, they are minor. We did not have much of a chance to talk before I sent him to bed."

Sighing deeply, the elf still dressed in hunting garb nodded.

"Why were you down here then? Did he fall asleep on the couch?"

While Celebrian filled her husband in on what had transpired earlier tonight, the crease dug deeper into his brow, added by a tightening of his lips.

"We should get him into bed," the beautiful she-elf, who had not had a chance of sleep tonight, summed up, brushing over Soread's arm as she spoke.

Elrond nodded. "Help me get him off my back," he said. Celebrian's arms carefully snuck around Soread's chest, pulling him away so her husband could twist. Allowing the elf to lean against his chest, the elf Lord gathered him in his arms and stood. He instantly knew the cartographer weighed too little, for he was able to stand up with his burden a lot easier than he had expected, causing him to nearly lose his grip. It amazed him that the mapper slept through all this, reminding Elrond of whenever he had picked up an exhausted child to put to bed. Rearranging the still sleeping figure, he expectedly looked at his beloved.

"Shall we get him back into the healing wing?"

"No. I only had him sleep there because I did not want to have him stay awake until his rooms were finished. We can put him to bed there." Soread's rooms, the chambers the Lord of the Hidden Valley had allotted him at his last visit, were only two doors down from the couple's own chambers. Elrond had promised his young friend that he would always have them to return to and during his absence the door had remained locked, closed off for everyone. Elladan and Elrohir had attempted to pick the lock at one point, though they had never again tried after Elrond had subjected them to two months of working with the quartermaster.

Treading carefully, for the only light was coming from the already descending moon which partially hid behind clouds and the tips of the trees, Elrond carried Soread out of the Hall of Fire. They left the warm glow of the fire and the healer could feel the sleeping elf shiver as soon as the chilly air of the night caught him. Sensitive to cold then, the healer mentally noted.

The shadows of the banister of the stairs were drawing such harsh figures across the steps that Elrond slowed down, not trusting his eyes to make sense of the confusing array of light and dark, not wishing to trip due to carelessness. Still, it did not take long and the elf was striding through the silent and still hallways, the calmness of night slowing his heartbeat and breathing. Only the mapper's silver hair shone vividly in the dark and for a moment the healer wondered how the elf could ever avoid being seen in the night with hair made of liquid silver streaming over his shoulders.

Celebrian opened the door to Soread's chambers. The smell of a burning oak and pine still hung in the air even though the fire had crumbled into itself in the fire place, emitting only a soft, barely visible glow. Stepping through the sitting room, careful not to run into any furniture, the couple entered the adjoined bedroom. Celebrian quickly pulled back the fresh linens and stepped aside to make room for her husband, who lowered his charge as gently as possible.

"M'Lord?" A mumbled voice sounded.

"T'is alright, Soread, go back to sleep," Elrond hushed the elf, drawing up the blanket. For one second, silver eyes looked up at him, then the mapper's breathing evened out once more. Celebrian brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, causing the elf to move away in his sleep. Then she stepped around the bed, wrapping her arms around Elrond's midsection, looking down at the younger elf.

"I am glad he's back. I missed him," she admitted. Elrond rolled his eyes, remembering quite well how much teasing he had had to suffer whenever he had wondered whether the cartographer would ever return. He put his arm around his beloved wife, kissed her forehead and pulled her with him, closing first the bedroom door and then the door leading onto the corridor behind them.

* * *

Self-consciousness was not trait Soread cultivated, yet he felt its iron grip hold onto him when he stepped out of the bedroom. Feeling the form-fitting fabric and leather on his skin was strange and somewhat foreign. It felt very snug and sturdy. Like he was bearing heavy armour fitted to his form and not a simple set of every day clothes. Only the weight of his weapons by his side felt comfortably normal. He caught his fingers dancing across the smooth hilt of his twin long knives.

He had woken to an empty room and the soft smell of washed linen mingled with the odour of dust and chestnut wood. Wrapped in a thick blanket, he had only abandoned his safe cocoon because the sinking feeling of the mattress beneath him had allowed him no further rest. Morning had broken many hours ago, he'd quickly realised, though the chill in the air suggested it was still too early for it to be midday

Now Soread stood in a familiar hallway with panelled walls interrupted by large, double-glassed windows. He had not found the rags he had been wearing upon his arrival and had therefore donned the so snug-feeling clothes he had found provided in the wardrobe. Hyperaware of the clothes against his skin, the cartographer slang his two leather tubes and crossed daggers across his back, tightening the clasps and tugging the long end across the leather strap pressing against his ribs into a simple knot. Bouncing on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, Soread looked up and down the empty corridor.

He wet his lips, not quite knowing where he should go. His heart was strangely troubled and it concerned him for he could not even tell why. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly turned towards the stairs. Where would he find Lady Celebrian? Surely she'd be in school at this time of the morning, teaching the young elflings as she often did.

He came to the staircase and had already set foot on the first step down when he changed his mind. Instead, he climbed up to the third floor, wincing slightly when his right leg protested. Looking around and seeing he was alone, Soread self-consciously walked up with baby steps, using only his uninjured leg to push himself higher, his hand gripping tightly against the banister.

The door to Lord Elrond's study was open and when Soread quickly stepped closer, his fingers wrapped around his chest belt, he could see the healer pouring over some papers strewn across the high table to the right, his elbows braced against the table top, a quill held limply between his elegant fingers. Instead of his armour, he was now wearing a tight fitted golden tunic over dark grey pants and knee-high boots. A frown marred his high forehead and his lips moved soundlessly as he shuffled through his papers.

Smiling slightly, Soread brought his knuckles against the hard wood in a soft knock.

"Soread!" Elrond smiled as soon as he had turned. The quill was quickly shoved into an open bottle of ink and the healer walked towards the door as the young greenwood elf stepped into the room.

"My Lord," Soread replied. "It is truly good to see you, my Lord."

"It is good to see you too, my friend," Elrond smiled and just as Celebrian had the day before, embraced the elf. Only that his hands did not just pull the younger elf close, but they gently padded over his torso, feeling the bandages. Soread flinched when the pressure met his still healing wounds and twisted out of the embrace.

"You could have just asked, my Lord," the mapper spoke with a quirked brow, but Elrond could hear his amusement.

"Forgive me. Will you believe me when I tell you it is purely habit? I believe my sons and their friends have made it a game to see who could hide the most wounds from me," Elrond joked.

"Foolish elflings," the cartographer muttered and the healer had to press his lips together to avoid a bright grin at that. Soread was not counting many years more than these 'elflings', if he did count more years at all.

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Nay, I haven't. But I believe I overslept it. Will you allow me to skip the meal and join you for lunch instead?" A slight uncertainty rang in his voice and Soread was suddenly very interested in the books Elrond knew the cartographer cared nothing about.

"You will eat lunch with us," he quickly ordered in harsh words before he stopped to think whether he should make his friend eat breakfast beforehand or not. But lunch was barely an hour away and he knew the elf would not be able to eat twice in such a short time span. Maybe just some nuts and fruits now and then take him to lunch? He had seen the way Soread's shoulders had relaxed slightly upon his order that he would receive lunch. It saddened him to know that a part of the elf had questioned whether he would truly receive food. How long would it take for his guest to understand he would not go hungry as long as Elrond had any say about it?

"How about I shall check upon your wounds and we will go down for lunch afterwards, mellon?" He suggested. Soread nodded, nestling with his chest belt.

Elrond's sleeve fell aside as he signed towards the open door and Soread stepped out before him. Falling into step besides the mapper, his hands intertwined behind his back, the healer could not help but look at the young elf's profile, attempting to analyse him. Soread of course noticed though he only smiled, not mentioning it.

"You have not been eating enough," Elrond stated after a while. To be quite honest, he no longer knew how to start a conversation with Soread and the cartographer's own silence did not aid his difficulties.

"I am afraid I am by far a better cartographer than I am a hunter, my Lord," Soread jested gently in his quiet voice. "Alas, I do not know enough about the plants that grow in Eriandor to be much of a gatherer either. Both meant there was not much food for me to come by."

"Have you not thought of trading your maps against money in one of the bigger settlements? I am certain you could have demanded a hefty price. You could have bought food with the money you earned that way," Elrond pondered. There was a twitch in Soread's features, a slight sneer, gone too quickly to be sure what exactly it was. The elf stopped, attention hefted on the floor. His eyes narrowed slightly and Elrond could see him searching for the correct words to use. Once he seemed to have found them, the greenwood elf looked up and met his gaze.

"Like many of my people, my Lord, I am not overly fond of humans. I avoid them wherever I can."

The polite wording made it impossible to find any fault and Elrond just nodded in understanding though privately he thought to himself that the starvation Soread had put himself under should have been enough of a motivator to overlook his dislike for men. Yet he felt he had no right to judge the well-spoken elf.

"Where to have you travelled, mellon? You have been gone for quite a long time."

"Indeed, I have," Soread agreed, his words careful. "The land here is strange and foreign. I have travelled to the Weather Hills and the North Downs, I went to see Lake Evendim and the Hills of Evendium. I saw the river Lune and the mountain range of Ered Luin further in the west. It is a land very different of my own."

Elrond could not help but frown. Where was the enthusiasm his young friend normally showed when he talked about his maps? He sounded as if though he barely cared at all.

"Hills of Evendium? Do you mean Emyn Uial? And the Lake Evendim is that Nenuial?" The words Soread had used were Westron. Not their Sindarin or even Quenya names, no, their names in Westron. Why would an elf who disliked men make use of the Common Speech?

They reached the stairs and Soread stopped. "Do you mind aiding me, my Lord?"

"Your leg?" The healer allowed himself to be distracted.

"Yes, my Lord. Though it is healing nicely as far as I can tell, stairs do remain a challenge as of yet, one I am willing to give up upon when I have the chance to receive your aid."

Quickly Elrond stepped on Soread's other side and offered his arm. Long fingers, callused and thin like twigs, slipped around his arm and wrapped tightly over his wrist, the heavy golden fabric of his coat pressed coarsely against Elrond's exposed skin.

"To come back to your question," Soread continued as he made his way down, one hand on the banister, the other held by his host, "they might be though I could not tell for certain. I do not know what these places were called in Sindarin. But if you allow me to compare my notes to the maps at your disposal, I shall be able to tell you where I went."

The older elf hummed none-committingly, not liking the dispassionate tone of voice his guest used. He would have to ensure Soread's well-being first. The wood elf withdrew his hand quickly the moment they had reached the second floor.

When they stepped into the healing wing, Elrond frowned upon seeing one of the beds was unkept and it took him a few seconds before he recalled Celebrian's report that their young guest had slept here at first before somehow ending up underneath the bed. He quickly strode towards the bed and snatched the blanket, using the moment to check just how much space there even was under his hospital beds. Lips thinned upon seeing how little it was. He had to wonder how Soread had even managed to crawl underneath it.

"You got injuries on both your torso and your leg?" Elrond double checked, throwing the blanket back onto the bed. The cartographer still stood in the doorway, toying with the clasps before his chest.

"Ai, my Lord," he nodded, sounding slightly distracted.

"Which one is worse?"

"My leg, I presume, my Lord."

"Call me Elrond," the healer reminded, already pulling out healing supplies from the back wall which was covered in a wall system segmented in many small drawers, each with a tiny label marked with flowing script. "Take a seat wherever, Soread. Unless you want to go to the practice room and wait for me there." He lazily pointed towards one of the closed doors, a leave-packed bag with bandages in one hand, a small porcelain jar with disinfectant crème in the other.

Soread was uncomfortable with the situation yet when it came to his injuries, there was no-one he trusted more than this elf, so he preyed open his chest belt and gently placed his leather tubes and his crossed daggers next to the bed he had occupied the night before. Tucking at the blanket to flatten it out over the mattress, he then proceeded to loosen his belt with his twin knives before he sat down and went to opening the small hooks keeping the unfamiliar silvery-blue coat closed over the grey tunic he wore.

When Lord Elrond turned around, he found his charge sitting on the bed, his upper body wrapped in clean white bandages. His right arm was covered in colourful bruises, already faded to greens and yellows with only small patches of blue. Nothing broken though. Feeling some of the tenseness around his shoulders subside, the healer quickly carried the prepared tray over to Soread and placed it on the neighbouring table. He had shed his golden overcoat, tied back his hair and donned leather gloves which still smelled of the strong alcohol he had used to disinfect them.

"How'd you get injured?" The healer asked and started unwrapping the bandages.

"I made close friends with a landslide," the elf replied dryly and Elrond found himself chuckling. When he came to the lower layers of the dressing, the bandages started to show a patch of reddish colour but by far not as much as Elrond had feared. Setting the bandages aside a few minutes later he saw that Soread's right side was covered in blue and red. Along his ribs the skin had broken up. Pink flesh was growing back but even so the Noldo could see that these wounds had been deep, no doubt tearing muscle and bruising the bone beneath.

"Nothing broken?" Elrond asked, already prodding the wounds, feeling along the way too visible ribs. They should have broken, especially seeing how little meat protected them.

"Nothing broken," Soread confirmed though, his voice pressed as his body tensed under the prodding fingers.

"Alright," Elrond said. He did not like seeing such wounds on his young friends. And with his torso unexposed, the way Soread's ribs pressed against his skin made Elrond grind his teeth together and press his lips into a thin line. "Lift your arm, please," he ordered, wanting to see how much further the injuries stretched along his back. He walked around the bed to have a better look and froze in his steps. Eyes widened in shock and a strangled gasp escaped him.

"Soread!" The healer breathed, and he could not stop himself but to draw over the thin silver lines crisscrossing on the elf's back. Scars, thousands of them, scars that could only stem from a whip or something similar.

The cartographer turned his head slightly. "Those wounds are old, my Lord, and have healed. They do not concern you."

Elrond took note of the sharp undertone and reluctantly lowered his hand, turning back to the wound. The scars covered almost all of Soread's back and now that he looked out for them, he could see the ends of lashes wrap around bony shoulders. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focuse back on the wounds, knowing his guest would not appreciate his attention diverted by scars he clearly did not wish to talk about.

Checking on the closing wounds were his flesh must have been split open, Elrond decided to put two stitches in to avoid further scarring as far as it was still possible, otherwise he was satisfied with cleaning it out and applying crème. All the while his eyes kept drifting back to the white lines clearly not caused by an accident. When he wrapped bandages across his torso once more, the tips of his fingers could not help but brush over the welts. Soread noticed, no doubt, but simply shook his head in a small movement without reacting in any other way. Afterwards, Elrond checked on Soread's leg and repeated the procedure. No longer distracted, for he had shoved those thoughts far into the back of his mind in order to keep treating his friend, he frowned on the dirty thread the cartographer had used for the four stitches in his leg-wound before he replaced them. The area around the dirty stitches had infected slightly but considering the state of this thread it remained remarkably clean; Soread must have boiled the thread he had doubtlessly made from his ragged clothing otherwise there would have been no chance for this to look as well as it did.

Finishing up, the healer made a point of smiling at his patient who was visibly tense.

"We will check on your wounds tomorrow first thing," he declared and Soread graciously bowed his head. Gesturing for the elf to get dressed once more, Elrond took off his cloves and collected his gear.

* * *

 _ **Please review!**_

 **Thanks to my beta(s) SamGreg!**


	5. 5: Visitors of a Different Kind

A knock came against the door and Soread nodded when the healer looked towards him. The younger elf had just climbed back into his trousers and was now drawing the new leather belt tighter, which was adored with Noldo leather carvings. The healer shouted a quick "Come in!", towards the door while he tidied up around him.

"Good morning!" Celebrian's cheery voice sounded. Elrond could see his wife frown slightly upon seeing Soread's torso, wrapped in bandages but still showing how thin he was.

"Did you sleep alright, Soread?" Celebrian asked while handing him his shirt, meeting the bright silver eyes of their guest.

"Yes, my Lady, I did sleep very well. I have to thank your husband for that and the tea you so thoughtfully provided." Soread's attention turned to Elrond for the latter part of his speech, bowing his head. The healer smiled but quickly dismissed the gratitude. While the cartographer slipped in the too large shirt and then proceeded to don the tunic, Celebrian turned towards Elrond.

"The rooms in the guest house are prepared and Lindir has assured me there will be enough room in the stables as well. The cooks are already preparing for dinner."

"Good. Thank you, my love," Elrond spoke, attempting to solely focus on their conversation and failing. "When will they arrive again?"

Celebrian caught his hand, sensing his disturbance. He smiled and shook his head. He had known Soread had lived through a lot, had he not? The elf had been a warrior after all and even though he had not known that the young cartographer had had to suffer through torture, those wounds were healed and, as the mapper had reminded him, none of his business. No doubt they had already adored his back in their spider-web fashion the last time Soread had sought refuge here at Imladris. It would not do to suddenly treat him any different or insist on knowing about those scars.

"Sometime tomorrow. Glorfindel rode out again yesterday to catch up with the honour guard," Celebrian answered his earlier question.

"You have met Glorfindel? Soread?" Elrond asked, only adding the name when the cartographer did not appear to feel addressed.

"Ai, my Lord, I have met him. I do not think I've given him a very trustworthy impression though, for he attempted to protect Lady Celebrian from me."

"He what?" Elrond asked, astounded.

"I put him right," his wife assured with amusement. Just in this moment, the sound of a bell signalled lunch time. "Elladan and Elrohir had better be back!" Celebrian added and for his sons' sake, Elrond agreed.

"Let us go downstairs, my friend," he said. The younger elf took his chest belt with his tubes and twin knives but did not put it on. Instead, on their way towards the staircase, he quickly excused himself and vanished into his chambers. Not even a minute later he reappeared without his chest belt, leaving it in his chambers. Elrond smiled at that for it showed him Soread's trust. At their last visit, the cartographer had not let his most precious belongings out of his sight but now he seemed to feel comfortable enough to leave them stored in his rooms.

The healer offered his arm as aid once they reached the stairs and the other elf took his help.

"Ada!" A sensual soft voice caught Elrond's attention when they had nearly reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked up to see Arwen approaching him, her dark hair swept back in a beautiful braid, a dress in light blue flowing along her body like a waterfall.

"Evenstar!" The healer smiled. He had not seen his daughter since his return. She had already left when he had gotten up this morning and seeing as the Entrance Door was still ajar behind her, she could only just have returned. Soread attempted to pull his hand away but Elrond caught him, sending him a glare before smiling at Arwen. He escorted the cartographer to the ground floor before he allowed the elf to pull away and slink back.

Soread could not help but watch as the tall beautiful she-elf was embraced by her father and they laughed together about something his host had said. Without wanting to he imagined what his reunion with his own father might look like. He quickly drove the thought away, knowing it would not be anything like this.

"Soread, come here," Elrond waved him over and with a smile and Lady Celebrian by his side, the cartographer complied. "Soread, may I introduce you to my daughter Arwen. Arwen, Soread is a cartographer from Greenwood."

"My Lady," Soread spoke quickly and bowed, bringing his hand towards his chest.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Soread of Greenwood," Arwen reinitiated the polite words.

"I thank you for your kind words, my fair Lady," Soread dipped his head once more.

"Let us go to the Dining Room. You can talk during the meal," Elrond suggested, one hand against his daughter's back and the soft smile of a proud father directed to her.

Stepping back, Soread allowed his hosts to walk ahead of him. But Celebrian was having none of such devote behaviour and simply linked arms with the mapper, smiling widely when he looked up at her. His lips twitched and with the Lady of Imladris on his arm, the still ragged looking elf entered the Dining Room, causing all attention to shift towards him. Almost immediately, he froze in his steps, making to back away. Eyes settled upon his slim form with the judging weight of mountains, the snippets of conversations were rushing in his ears like underground waterfalls, crashing mighty of pure power, pushing him underwater, taking his air away. The ceiling high above his head threatened to fall down, threatened to bury him under its oppressive weight. There was no birds' song, no soft rustle of leaves, no soft kiss of passing wind. The mapper's eyes roamed the room without seeing anything.

A soft hand was placed on top of his, elegant fingers wrapping reassuringly over his tight grip. Soread blinked and met Lady Celebrian's worried gaze. The she-elf was already starting to stir him back towards the Hall of Fire. Forcing a smile to his face which did not reach his eyes, Soread shook his head. He closed his eyes for a single deep breath and when he opened them, he continued to listen to the sound of air streaming in his lungs even as he stepped forward and continued towards the table. Celebrian's hand remained on top of his, drawing circles against his cracked skin. Soread stepped away and bowed before the Lady besides him before he pulled out her chair.

„Thank you, Soread," Celebrian smiled brightly. Following her indication, Soread lowered himself onto the chair by her side, finding himself opposite his hosts' daughter Arwen.

Sitting at a table was strange, he found, feeling awkward when he placed his arms on the tabletop. Everything felt oppressive. The constant presence of many elves in one room caused his skin to itch and his attention to drift from one to the other, body tense, sensing danger in each of them. The amount of food placed on the table was making his stomach ache. He already felt sick without having taken a single bite. The ceiling especially was disconcerting. He had grown used to the vastness of the sky, only obscured by the trees under which he wandered and who offered him shelter and noiseless words.

„Ada says you hail from Greenwood, Soread," Arwen caught his attention, her beautiful, cherry-red lips quirked into a soft smile. Her fair skin was as clear as the light of the distant stars and her voice rang more beautiful than even Imladris' bells. For one moment, he could breathe more freely.

„That I do, my Lady, though it has been a long time since I last set foot in it."

„Do you not get lonely, so far from your home and your people?"

„Sometimes, my Lady," Soread replied, lowering his head. His heart ached in his chest at the thought of the vast forest lying lush beyond the hills. He missed the trees' familiar song ringing in his ears, missed the feeling of joy and adrenalin when he ran under the green foliage of trees more ancient when even the oldest elf.

„Please pass the sauce, Ada," Arwen asked with a smile. Soread could not help but stare at Lord Elrond as he smiled and leaned over to pick up the sauce.

„Here you go, darling," his host stated lightly. When Elrond went back to his food, the Noldo caught his guest's glance. Blinking and feeling himself flush, Soread automatically brought his hand towards his chest and bowed his head in apology before he quickly lowered his eyes to his own plate, laden with vegetables thanks to Lady Celebrian. He could not eat, he found, his stomach in knots.

He ignored the vegetables and instead forced himself to pick up the chicken broth by his side and slowly take a few spoonsful. After each sip, he waited to give his stomach time to settle and after a while he felt better, warmth spreading from inside him and his mind focused solely on the salty soup, ignoring everything around him.

„Soread?"

The cartographer flinched and looked up, unclenching his hands before anyone could notice. Too late, he realised when Celebrian and Elrond exchanged a glance.

It was Arwen who had spoken. The she-elf sat across her mother and was smiling indulgently. She was a true beauty, Soread realised, finding the time too marvel her features in the light of the sun spilling through the windows, the fiery ball still low in the sky during this time of the year.

„Forgive me, my fair Lady. I was lost in thoughts and did not intend to ignore you. What was it you wished to know?"

Two perfectly arched brows rose high into a smooth forehead and her cherry lips curved into a deeper smile.

„I was wondering how you were doing. Since you only arrived yesterday, I hope you had the chance to rest after your travels." For a few minutes, the young Lady of Imladris and the cartographer from Greenwood were exchanging pleasantries. They were interrupted by the door opening and two elves approaching in calm manner, their gait accompanied by laughter.

„My Lord Elladan, my Lord Elrohir," Soread recognized them, standing to bow before them.

The twins interrupted their banter to mirror his greeting.

"I had wished to apologize for my behaviour at our earlier meeting," Soread spoke, feeling the eyes of the elves' present rest heavily on his slim form. „It had not been my intention to be rude and I hope you shall forgive the infraction. My mind was troubled, and I forgot my manners."

The twins both wore an impressive expression of surprise and exchanged a startled glance as if they had been caught doing something they should not be doing. Elladan wet his lips and he smiled a bit uncertain. "Worry not, Soread of Greenwood, you have not offended us, and we shall accept your apology though it was not necessary." His voice held a strange gravitas and sounded as if he had attempted to imitate his father. Nonetheless, Soread bowed his head deeply, inwardly smirking.

He returned to his soup once the twins had taken their respective seats and were reprimanded by their father for being late. Soread did his best to ignore the words, feeling as if he was intruding and quite frankly wishing he were outside.

When he had taken the last sip, he placed the spoon on top of the white napkin next to his table set and looked up. He blinked in confusion, finding the hall almost empty. Arwen smiled towards him, having quietly waited across from him, her plate and cutlery gone, as had everything else on the table. The twins too had left.

„Would you like some more? There is still some left," she asked lightly. „We also have some bread left if you want any."

„I thank you, my Lady, but I am fine. I do not believe I can eat any more," Soread replied, still confused. How long had he needed for his lunch that everyone else had already left? For how long had his hosts sat with him, patiently waiting for him to finish? „I apologize for taking this long. You needn't have waited for me to finish."

„It is nothing," Celebrian smiled. „No one should have to eat alone."

„No one should have to wait for an hour for their guest to finish his meal," Soread gave back sarcastically.

„It wasn't quite an hour," Elrond stated and now stood. „I have to speak to some of my guards. I should not need long."

„My Lord? Would you mind if I were to accompany you? I would appreciate walking through your city and of course I have no intention of intruding on your meeting with your guards. I shall wait in fair distance," Soread spoke up, raising to his feet as well, ignoring the tiredness clawing at his limbs. He wanted the clear sky above his head once more, needed it to breathe freely after the oppressive and crowded Dining Hall.

„Of course, I don't mind and there shall be no reason for you to stand away. There are no military secrets to be spoken about," Elrond smiled.

With Soread walking soundlessly by his side, the Noldo left the grand house and stepped onto the sand-strewn courtyard. Heading towards a set of stairs leading to the lower parts of the city, Elrond made a point of walking more slowly and offered his arm to aid the cartographer down the stairs.

„How do you maintain such a good relationship with your children, my Lord?" Soread suddenly asked without any preamble words.

The sun was shining bright from the sky and wind was pulling at their hair, throwing strands of brown and silver over their respective shoulders. Brushing them out of his eyes, Elrond thought about how to answer.

„I love my children dearly and any misdeeds and mistakes they or I make are forgiven eventually," he finally said, the words somewhat hollow in his ears for he knew they would sound like empty whispers to the cartographer. „Your father loves you, Soread. As does your mother. You might have quarrelled, but this love will remain until the sun sets one final time on Arda."

„I envy your certainty, my Lord. But I am afraid t'is neither here nor there, for I cannot return home either way."

„You cannot return home?" Elrond resisted the urge to stop, feeling it was easier for Soread to talk if he did not have to face his host.

„I have brought dishonour over me. I shall not stand before my father ever again." Bitterness swung in the elf's voice. Before the healer could ask any further question, the mapper went on: „May I require why you need to talk to the guards personally? I would have thought you'd have messengers to forward your orders."

„In fact, I do. But I prefer to do at least some of my errands myself for it gives me the chance to leave my study once in a while, especially during busy times when I am confined to those walls way too much. I have guests arriving tomorrow and want to ensure they are greeted properly."

„It seems I have arrived at an inopportune time. I hope my presence has not kept you from your work, nor will it interfere with your other guests?"

„Worry not, dear friend. You are most welcome. However, I am afraid I won't have much time to spare. The King of Gondor has sent his healers to learn from me, accompanied by an entourage."

"Gondor? You are expecting men?" The cartographer had stopped. His lips were pulled into a sneer, his nose wrinkled as if he had smelled something vile. Bright eyes were searching Elrond's face, giving the Noldo the impression of being seized up by the humble elf for the first time. The sudden change in behaviour was startling.

"Yes," the Lord of Imladris replied, cautious and feeling uncomfortably stiff around the elf whom he considered a dear friend. "Will you join me to greet them tomorrow? They will stay at Imladris for a few weeks, I expect, before they set out for the journey back home."

"Nay", the elf flat-out refused. "I shall not soil my hands with them nor darken my soul with their presence. I had not expected you to host men, Lord Elrond, even though I have heard rumours. While this is your choice and I have no right to tell you what to do, I can and will remove myself from this place. I no longer feel safe in your home which offered me warmth for more days than I had dared to hope." He smiled once more, sadness lingering openly visible in his fair yet gaunt features. "It was a pleasure to see you once again, my Lord, and I regret for leaving in dispute. I can see you do not share my resentment and I can see you are not understanding of my own. I hope the reason I leave will not cause you to bear ill will against me. It would cast a shadow over my heart to know you were to think less of me, alas, I cannot remain here with men on your doorstep." His head tilted to the side and for one moment he was looking towards the entrances to the courtyard as if to gauge if someone was already approaching. He then focused his attention back on his host, who found himself stunned into silence. „Farewell, my Lord. May the stars watch over you and guide your path."

The elf made to bow, bringing his hand towards his chest. But his polite words, underlined by slight flinches in his facade told Elrond just how difficult it had been for this elf to realise he could no longer stay here if he insisted on his opinion. The abruptness with which the situation seemed to have changed shocked the Noldo and barely gave him time to react. Still, Elrond quickly grasped the cartographer's arm, hindering him to bring it towards his chest. A noble head shot up, the smile gone, and caution written painfully clear in the sharp glance bestowed upon the Noldo. The healer could see Soread's left hand reaching backwards and grasping the hilt of his long knife without drawing it.

Choosing to ignore the painful realization that Soread once more thought he'd be attacked for voicing his opinions and sharing a truth he knew Elrond would not understand, Elrond spoke: "Don't be hasty, mellon-nin. Please. Let us talk about this before you leave once again. I admit, I do not understand your resentment against men, but I truly do not wish for you to leave because of them, nor do I wish for you to feel unsafe here."

"You do not understand", Soread repeated, his stance relaxing and his fingers letting go of the smooth bone hilt as he straightened. He twisted his arm out of Elrond's grasp. "I cannot walk your gardens and house at ease if I have to expect to run into one of them. I cannot stand the thought and though I realise it must be hard for you to understand, let alone relate to it, it does not change the fact that I would rather suffer the wilderness and starve to death than to be near a man."

There truly was no arguing with this elf about the moral of men, yet the healer felt the almost desperate need to keep his young friend at the safety of Imladris. Soread should not face the wilderness once more already, not after just two decent meals, not before they had talked about the elf's father, a wish he had seen linger in the cartographer's eyes whenever he had watched Elrond interact with his children.

„Soread," Elrond therefore spoke calmly, brushing over the cartographer's arm. He ignored the flinch which accompanied the touch. „I want you to remain here. My other guests will not arrive before the morrow. Please, do me the favour and stay for the night at least and let us talk about this. Let me find a way to make you feel safe here despite their presence."

Soread hesitated. A flicker of hope was quickly squashed down, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Boldly, he met Elrond's eyes, the negative reply already on his lips, visible as if it were written in dark ink. But Elrond stared him down, applying the skills he had honed through centuries of raising twin boys.

„Fine," Soread finally said tersely, looking away. „I shall remain for tonight. But I must warn you that my intention to leave before these men arrive has not wavered."

Waver it would, Elrond knew with relief, for he would bring Celebrian into the situation and he did not doubt that where he was floundering for words, she would know to fill his pauses and speak to Soread.

Reaching for his arm, the Lord of Imladris gently directed the cartographer back towards the house, worry gnawing against his healer's heart for he could feel tense muscle under his fingers and the ease which had smoothed the young face was gone, replaced by alertness. Already it seemed the revelation that men were coming to Imladris as guests had robbed the mapper of his peace.

* * *

 ** _Please review!_**

 **This chapter took a long while to write and it is a bit meandering. Are there any parts you feel are too drawn out? Please let me know what you like / dislike about this chapter!**

 **A big thanks to** _ _SparkyTAS_._ **Without her/his encouragement through PM, I would not have continued this story right now but would have probably left it to sit for a few more weeks / months**


	6. 6: We Are Better

It would have been a perfect day had Soread's features not been set in stone. While the cartographer gave himself aloof, it did not escape Elrond's attention how alert the other was, his breathing calm and controlled. Several times, the mapper seemed to be at the brink of talking but each time he remained silent.

The sun shone from a bright sky; only small, fluffy looking clouds spread over the vast sea of blue. Birds were singing, the fresh, intense green of young leaves was glowing from the trees, the aroma of flowers in the air and the constant smell of horse and gravel that always held the courtyard in its grip. They climbed the stairs back up and already, Elrond felt his anxiousness retreat, for he could see his beloved wife standing off to the side, laughing at something Glorfindel had said. The balrog-slayer's hair was floating in the breeze, somehow looking elegant where Elrond felt disturbed by his own strands blowing in his face. He frowned slightly, for the balrog-slayer should be on his way to catch up with the honour guard to greet their guests. Yet his laughter eased the stress already welling up inside him, for the warrior would not be so at ease if there truly were a problem. The reborn elf was in his shining armour still, sending silver reflections across the sandy plain with each movement, and his faithful stallion was nudging his shoulder as if to remind the elf that it was still carrying a saddle. His attention caught, the elf turned to his steed and pet its neck, a crease of soft concern etched into his forehead, lips moving in murmured words swallowed by the distance.

„My love? You are already back?" Celebrian had noticed their approach and her stance too shifted to that of worry. At the sound of her voice, Glorfindel turned and looked towards them, keen eyes quickly moving on to Soread, scanning the foreign elf.

„Glorfindel, why are you here?" Elrond asked, wishing to be informed before he spoke of the newly arisen issue.

„Lasthon cut his left leg on a branch. It is none too deep, but he started limping slightly and I did not wish to subject him to a fast ride just to catch up. My comrades shall be able to welcome our guests without me," Glorfindel explained, indicating on the horse's left hind leg, where indeed blood coated the white fur. „I was just about to bring him to the equerry so he will be taken care of."

No crises then, good, Elrond thought, nodding towards the Chieftain of Imladris' Forces. He then looked back at Celebrian whose concern had not diminished. For one quick second, her eyes flickered over to their young guest and her husband nodded slightly in confirmation. „I need your help," Elrond stated calmly. „Soread is intending to leave. I was hoping you would help me convince him otherwise."

„You wish to leave already?" Glorfindel unexpectedly joined the conversation, going against his normal attitude of keeping in the background while strangers were present.

„I shall keep out of the way of men." There was no yield in his voice, eyes hard, hands intertwined behind his back.

Instinctively, the words to defend the race of men found their way to Elrond's lips, but he ignored their tugging urge to be set free. This was a discussion best left for when they had convinced the mapper to remain in Imladris.

„They will not be staying here in this house," Celebrian argued, quicker to simply accept Soread's attitude towards men than her husband had been. „Normally, our guests housed in the guest house down in the city and there are rooms prepared for them there. They would only be up here for meals, lessons and meetings." A contemplative mien had taken over and she now lightly tapped her chin with a finger. „Elrond, could we transfer your lessons to the City Hall instead? I shall speak with Kinoth about the use of her tavern for the meals."

Soread had perked up, his eyes moving quickly from one person to the other, his lips falling apart in surprise, hand grasping the hilt of his long knife, not in apparent defence but as if he needed something to hold on to. It was amusing to watch, and Elrond saw the same amusement in the eyes of his wife and old friend.

„My Lady, I cannot -," the cartographer started.

„A good idea, my love. I can hold all lessons in the City Hall. It will take some hours to get all the necessary supplies down there, however, it should not be a problem. And we shall compensate Kinoth for her troubles if she allows us the use of her tavern."

„My Lord!" Soread protested, raising his hand in defence, clearly agitated.

„I can have some of my soldiers guard the entrances to the upper level to ensure no man wanders off," Glorfindel added with a smirk, winking towards Soread who, silenced once again, just stared at the three of them.

„You shall not have to worry about walking into men when you wander our gardens, Soread, nor shall your peace be disturbed by them." Feeling smug, Elrond bowed slightly before the elf whose hand was still in the air. Smirking, he continued: „Excuse me now, I must make preparations in the healing ward." Grasping Celebrian's hand, he quickly kissed her, knowing he himself would not have found this easy solution to their problem, let alone this quickly. Nodding towards Glorfindel, thankful for his help, the Lord of Imladris walked towards the large entrance doors.

He heard soft footsteps, running to catch up to him just a few seconds later. Soread appeared by his side. More steps during which only silence reigned, the other searching for words. Then: „My Lord. I can't accept all this. You barely know me, yet you go to such lengths to aid me. I appreciate it, I truly do, but I have nothing to repay you with, nothing at all. Just my worries laden on top of your own. I shall leave Imladris by the morrow."

„I cannot nor do I wish to stop you from leaving, but I do hope you will remain here. You need some decent meals and calm to sooth your soul. Do not think I am blind to the pain you feel. I have seen the way you watch me interact with my children and I have heard the bitterness in your voice when you spoke of being unable to return home. Let us talk this evening and do not bother your heart. You are welcome here and accommodating you is no trouble. This way, you shall find rest and peace without having to threat the meeting with men. You were correct, I do not understand your resentment, but I shall not force you to associate with any man. About this too, we shall talk tonight. Now, make yourself at home. I will be in the healing ward to prepare my tools should you be in need of assistance or companionship. Feel free to wander our valley or rest, whatever your heart desires."

* * *

Celebrian walked through the corridors of her house, dusk descending on the hidden valley. For now, golden light was still streaming through the windows in the west and was drawing long shadows behind anything in its path. Her deeds for the day were fullfilled.

„Celebrian!" A voice behind her. Glorfindel hurried up the stairs. Celebrian had to avert her eyes for the rays of sun were reflecting on his armour and hair, making him appear as if he was a figure woven of pure starlight instead of an elf of flesh and blood. The balrog-slayer quickly stepped out of the sun upon noticing her discomfort.

„I have instructed my guards. They will be in place come the men's arrival." The Lady of Imladris had had to smile when she had handed the map by Soread's hand to Glorfindel. Even though the gift the mapper had left them at his last visit was a map of the house and the map of the city was barely as large as the palm of their hand, it had been the only map Celebrian had found that showed Imladris itself. She had never realised it before, simply because there had been no need for one, but there was no professional map of Imladris in their possession. Her husband too had been astounded and had thoughtfully declared he would have to change this matter. And so, it had been Soread's small drawing that had allowed Glorfindel to double check if they had indeed thought of all entrances to the house of the Lord and the Lady of Imladris to be guarded.

„Elladan and Elrohir mentioned they wanted to ask you to take them for a ride," Celebrian brought up.

„Actually, I turned them down," the elf surprised her. Usually Glorfindel obliged her sons request to spend time with him whenever possible. „I had intended to join you for dinner." He grinned, reaching underneath his chest plate to pull the padded shirt back in place to avoid chafing against his collar bone.

„Of course," the Lady replied, still astounded.

Glorfindel excused himself and Celebrian continued towards her husband's study. Though not requested, she wanted to draw up an official document for the use of the tavern.

The door was wide open which was unusual and so it was with quickened steps that the elf approached the study. One glance inside told her the reason though for she spotted Soread amidst the tall bookcases, stacks of parchment and the large, free tables. She stopped in the door and was already about to speak when she noticed the elf's mood. Gone was the light smile and polite facade, replaced by angry lines drawn into the youthful forehead. The cartographer was slowly pacing with crossed arm, his face tightened, and lips pressed together. His hair was drawn back by a leather string loosely secured in the nape of his neck; the braided strands carelessly included.

Soread stopped and turned to glare at a table. Elrond had tidied up as soon as he had known of Soread's return, self-conscious still about the mess the wood elf had encountered at his first visit. There was a large piece of clean-cut paper on the tabletop, the edges held back by a candle stick, an ink well, a silver box which Elrond used to store new quill tips and a heavy book.

The mapper shifted, putting his hands against the wood and leaning against the desk, glaring upon the blank paper. A big heave lifted the narrow shoulders before they fell and Soread allowed his head to fall forward with the air leaving his lungs. Celebrian wasn't quite sure how to act. She wanted to embrace him but the fact that he was here and only now allowed himself to look as dejected as he did tell her Soread had not wanted for them to know. So instead, the Lady took a step back, already about to walk down the hallway. Somehow though she found herself remaining.

The cartographer straightened, pushed back from the table and leaned to his side. His two leather tubes, battered and the leather faded and chafed, were leaning against the table and he know reached inside one, pulling out a leather roll. Setting it on the table and opening it with quick fingers, soon a row of drawing implements was revealed. Brushes of different sizes and forms Celebrian had never seen before, pens and quills, several small bottles of ink.

Soread murmured something underneath his breath, words the Noldo watching from the door could not understand. But she could see his fingers shaking when he hesitated to reach for his supplies. The cartographer flexed his fingers before taking up a short pen, hand still shaking. Stabilizing himself by leaning forward on his elbows, his eyebrows drew even further together as he stared at the paper. Several times the pen moved down, only to be drawn back before it even touched the paper. Then, with his lips pressed together once more, Soread finally started drawing.

Watching him work was fascinating. She had heard him talk about his maps before but had never actually seen him work. He was using different compasses and a ruler made of light, almost green wood, moving them across the entire span of the paper with practiced ease. While his movements were jerky still in the beginning, each stroke forced, each line a fight against whatever it was that kept his mind racing, his movements quickly evened out. Compass and ruler were replaced with different pens, Soread double checking his work several times. He seemed to be using notes written on a separate piece of parchment as well as just looking at his work. Slowly the tense muscles relaxed and Celebrian smiled when the anger and frustration left his young face. As did the tenseness, slowly draining line by line to make place to utter calm. When he switched the pens for ink and quill, his face was more relaxed than she had ever seen it and soon a small smile spread over it.

Hands touched her waist and Celebrian span around, her elbow coming in contact with a solid body. Elrond moaned as he doubled over, one hand risen in defence.

„Celebrian!", he protested. „It's just me. What are you doing in the door?"

„Forgive me, my love. I had not expected you. Are you hurt?"

Grumbling and straightening, still holding his side, the elf Lord shook his head. Looking over her shoulder, Celebrian had expected their voices to alert Soread to their presence, but the elf was fully engaged with his work. Elrond stepped in behind her, his arm around her waist now expected and therefore most welcome.

„What is he working on?" The Lord asked, gently kissing his wife's neck.

„I have no idea."

His warmth left her as he stepped around her, walking into his study. „Isn't it a bit dark in here, Soread?", Elrond asked, lightening several oil lamps strategically placed around his study. Still, the elf did not react to their presence or the healer's words.

„Soread," Elrond tried again, gently and carefully placing his hand on the cartographer's shoulder. Freezing and then slowly lifting the quill from the paper, Soread stepped to the side and then looked up. He smiled and in the light of the oil lamps mingled with the slightest light from outside, Celebrian was sure his smile was far more genuine than it had been before.

„My Lord," Soread spoke and bowed.

„Elrond, mellon-nin. It is Elrond. How often do I have to say it?"

Soread bowed once more, already reaching for a piece of fabric to clean his quill, black ink colouring his fingers in some places.

„I hope you will forgive my intrusion into your study, my Lord. Lord Lindir suggested I wait for you here. I just … passed the time."

Elrond's eyes widened when he looked upon the beginning of the map in front of him. It would take Soread many more hours to finish this work, yet still, already it was breath-taking. It showed Eriador. The west was still mainly empty, only pen marks shaping the area. But the east up to the Misty Mountains and a few acres beyond, was well defined. The valley was mostly bland still, but the city was beautifully crafted, nestled in between several hills, water streaming through the city so clearly, it seemed to mingle perfectly with the far sound drifting through the open window. He could see the crossroad as it lay in simple strikes, each path marked with landmarks. The beech grove in the north leading towards Rivendell with the small river running alongside it, the massive boulder, remnant of a battle in the Misty Mountains, rolled down from the mountain range from the east, the pound in the south and the sea of flowers covering the northern side of the western path. Two lines crossing. Yet upon seeing those lines, the Noldo felt indecision well up inside him. Different paths before him with no indication which one he should choose.

„It is not finished yet," the quiet, slightly embarrassed voice of the cartographer cut into Elrond's musings.

„It is beautiful, Soread." The healer stepped back and allowed the cartographer to check on the ink before he lifted the different weights from the corners and rolled the map up.

Looking outside, the Lord of Imladris estimated they had maybe half an hour left before dinner would be served at a later hour today than what was normal. He wondered if he should ask Soread about his distaste of men now or after they had eaten. Deciding that dinner could serve as a welcome break should their conversation take up more than half an hour, the Noldo mused about how to introduce the topic.

„Speak, my Lord." Harsh, yet quiet words, not a request but an order coming from the polite mapper who now crossed his arms and faced him. „I wish to get this over with. T'is not a topic I enjoy talking about." Already, Soread's patience with the topic was audibly thin, his acceptance of talking in the first place clearly an effort to thank his hosts.

„Why do you dislike men?" Elrond complied.

„They disgust me, my Lord. The seed for my dislike might have come from my upbringing but it has since grown into a mighty tree."

„What do they teach you in Greenwood."

„Let us not bring politics into this conversation of my attitude, my Lord, please. You know my King dislikes men, but I have no intention of discussing my King's or my people's reasons with you." Word well thought through, yet one word chased the other. Eyes averted; the mapper seemed more interested in the healer's tunic than their discussion.

„The races of men and elves are equal and we both live on Arda, sharing our world with many other races," Celebrian argued.

"We are not equal to men, my Lady. We are better than them," Soread replied softly, speaking quick as if he wished for the topic to be over. Elrond frowned.

"I disagree."

The Silvan just bowed his head, turning away to stop any further words.

"Why do you think the race of men is inferior to ours?" Elrond stopped him, focused on remaining objective and calm. It was not his place to teach the other different. All he wanted was to know why his friend thought the way he did, for clearly the elf was well-educated and intelligent enough to make up his mind without the influence of others.

Keen eyes darted towards him. Soread swallowed, turning away slightly to look out of the window. "We are stronger. We are more resilient, be it against cold or disease. We carry the light of the Valar within our chests and it provides us with endless lives in times of peace. Our eyesight is keener, our bodies quicker, our movements more coordinated – graceful, you might say. We do not enslave others and find no joy in their suffering. We live in tune with the wild around us, not seeking to destroy the beauties of the world, nor do we force nature underneath our bonds."

The healer had watched his friend as he spoke, and he had perked up when one argument was so quickly followed by the next as if though the words had been rehearsed. Now, the traveller ran a shaky hand over his face. The sound of air pressed out of constricting lungs had the healer pushing away from the ledge and jumping to his feet, reaching out.

"This conversation is over," Soread declared, his voice suddenly so hard and determined, Elrond blinked. The younger elf still had his back turned to the Lord of Imladris. His hands clenched to fists by his side, slowly opening with tremulous fingers.

Warm skin touched his when Celebrian interwove their hands, pulling him back. She shook her head, just watching.

When only silence met his words, Soread slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Cautious silver eyes scanned them, dim fear in them.

„Let us go to dinner, mellon-nin," Elrond reassured, not able to bear that broken look any longer. The stubborn greenwood elf still thought he would be thrown out for his opinion. He might be wrong, yet the elf only limited himself and neither sought to convince others of his opinion nor to bring harm to the race of men. For this, Elrond would not fault him.

* * *

"My Lord?" Soread asked. When Elrond raised his eyes, he realised the elf was looking at him intently. Looking around and not seeing anything, the elf Lord quickly realised he must have ignored the cartographer in front of him. Dinner had been quiet, with their guest focused on his meal once more and the healer deep in thought. Glorfindel had joined them for the meal but after the silence had not been inviting to remain longer, he and Celebrian had left to finalise a few things.

"You are unusually quiet, my Lord. Should I leave you to your thoughts?" The traveller asked politely yet by far more directly than any Noldo would have ever done.

Elrond smiled thinly. He decided to be as frank as his guest: "Forgive me. To be honest, it is your own words that trouble me. They keep repeating in my head and I am wondering if I should ask or if I would do better to leave the matter."

Soread leaned back, his features schooled in a careful, calm mask. "Which words would you be referring to, my Lord?" He then asked, slow, his eyes slipping down. His attention now lingered on his plate, which he spun with long fingers on the table. Attentive fingertips caressed the painted ceramic flowers.

Elrond took his time, crossing his fingers and putting his hands on the table. "You said," he then began, "that elves are superior to men because unlike them, we do not enslave others."

"That I did indeed say." The plate was moving quicker now, fingers drumming against the edge.

"Soread …" The healer began, sighing. His hands disentangled themselves and he found himself rubbing his temples with closed eyes. He missed the quick flicker of Soread's light eyes up to his face before their attention returned to the plate. "Soread …" Elrond repeated, letting his hands fall down. "To me, it almost sounded as if you meant you had indeed met men who would enslave others. Have you?"

The healer remembered all too clearly when he himself had born witness to such cruelty the first time. The warlord had acted generously and invited them for tea. Had proudly shown Elrond and his Lord Gil-Galad his 'possessions'. The when-seneschal had been disgusted, still was, and for a while, in Elrond's mind too all men had been reduced to the cruelty of a few.

The plate was spinning and moving over the white tablecloth. Staggering dangerously close to the edge, Soread suddenly stopped, looking up. For several seconds, he just stared into the Noldo's eyes, sharp and searching. Whatever he found there, it seemed to satisfy him. Carefully pushing the plate back towards the middle of the table, turning it so the flowers drawn upon the porcelain were in one line with the ones on Elrond's own plate, Soread quietly said: "The scars on my back were not caused by my own hand."

Elrond's eyes widened at the implication and his lips parted in shock. Blinking slowly, he had to take a deep breath. Before he could say anything else, Soread stood. His fingertips brushed over the lilies stitched on the tablecloth. He did not look up from the white fabric.

"I shall retire for the night, my Lord. May the stars shine upon you." His voice was soft in the empty dining hall. Sitting frozen in his seat, not finding the words to even reply to the well-wishes, Elrond was left staring after the young cartographer. The dawning understanding was painful, and his heart ached in his chest. The door opened, and the bright silver hair was the last thing the Imladris' Lord saw of his quietly retreating guest before it was drawn shut once more, closing with only a soft click.

* * *

 _ **Please review!**_

 **I am not sure if I have portrayed Soread as weaker than he should be in this chapter. Please let me know what you think. Too moody for our calm catographer?**


	7. 7: A Five-Minute Conversation

Soread looked up from where he was sitting upon the windowsill, legs drawn up against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. An oil lamp burned besides him on a table, casting the corner of the room in a dim glow. In the black window, Soread's reflection moved with the dancing flame.

"Have you come to check up on me, my Lord?", the cartographer spoke in soft tone, not at all sounding as if though he minded. The dragon in Elrond's chest - the personification of his worry - did not quite know whether to snort soft puffs of smoke and rest its head upon its paws or to roar up in burning defence and shield to elf before him.

"I have," Elrond admitted, slowly stepping around the settee and next to the young mapper.

"I appreciate the sentiment, my Lord." He smiled softly but when he turned back to stare into the darkness beyond the window, his smile dropped. Maybe it was just the glass, but he looked sad. Elrond reached for the armchair and pulled it closer, slowly taking a seat and crossing his legs.

"Our conversation has brought up memories I find myself unable to shove away once more," Soread suddenly spoke. He raised his hand and pressed thumb and forefinger against his eyes, pulling a face as if that could help him ignore the memories. "My father warned me to not associate with men. Warned me about what they were like. And I ignored him and paid the price. I knew better than to approach them and yet I thought myself open-minded and invincible and did go near them without caution. And all for a childish rebellion against words I knew to have been spoken in wisdom."

There was nothing Elrond could say. His words would be in vain and sound like lies in Soread's ears and so he did not attempt to dissuade the notion the younger elf had gained. He now understood why an elf in the mapper's situation would be distrustful of men. Hateful, even, though Elrond refused to believe this resentment to be in his friend's nature. The fact that Soread had even gone so far and ignored his teachings that men were evil only to be proven wrong right away was hard to dismiss. Of course it wasn't true: Not all men were like this, on the contrary. But words would not be capable to assure the cartographer of this, not after the wounds on his back had left a far stronger imprint, etched deeply into his skin with pure pain and cruelty.

Silence reigned between them, Soread having gone back to staring at his reflection in the dark glass. The only sound heard was their steady breathing and the rushing of the wind outside. A drumming started unexpectedly as raindrops fell from the skies above, at first drawing long lines and then wet fractal patterns across the glass beyond the mapper's features.

Soread shivered and he pulled his knees tighter against his chest. Goosebumps started to creep over his skin yet the elf made no move to pick up a blanket or relocate closer to the fire. Therefore, Elrond quietly stood, adding another two logs to the hearth and taking a blanket from the couch, letting the folded piece of woven wool fall open.

„Thank you," Soread spoke when the healer placed it over his shoulders.

Nodding, Elrond returned to his seat, resting one ankle on top of the other knee.

„What did they do to you?" He asked once Soread had returned to staring out the window, now wrapped tightly in the soft material, silver hair falling to his shoulders and then vanishing underneath it.

„I'd rather not discuss this topic, my Lord. To sum it up: They found their joy in my pain and I nearly broke under the cruel weight of it. The memory terrorizes my nightmares and the thought alone of encountering another man…" The elf did not finish but a violent shiver nothing to do with cold ran through his body. Blinking rapidly, the blanket was drawn tighter around thin shoulders and the muscles of his jaw stood out when he pressed his teeth together. He was scared. More than that, he was terrified. All thoughts of maybe arranging a meeting between Soread and one of his human guests was instantly erased from the healer's thoughts. His wounds were too fresh to be mended by force and Elrond could not betray the trust his friend was putting in him, especially should the cartographer truly stay here in Imladris. Elrond needed to ensure his friend would feel safe and that meant that he should not even have to lay eyes upon a man.

„Soread?" Elrond asked gently.

Soread's head turned and the tenseness around his shoulders lessened slightly when he saw Lord Elrond sitting in his armchair. Hands folded, legs crossed, one sharp brow risen in concern, the healer just patiently sat in the dark room, fire light flickering across the left half of his features and drawing long shadows. The younger elf swallowed and the flames reflected in the silver pools of his eyes.

„I can't talk about it," he refused once more, voice breaking in the middle, shaking his head slightly but repeatedly.

For a moment, Soread believed the healer would prompt him once more. Instead, Elrond seemed thoughtful before he spoke with carefully measured words: „You don't have to. But remember, my friend, that even talking about the past that torments us can help."

Soread sighed and felt gratitude rush through him. The healer was indeed as wise as he was kind to see when he needed to press on and when he needed to back off. Those kind eyes had settled on his shoulders and it was as if they had already taken some of the weight off them.

The smell of clean, dry wool wrapped around him with the same warmth as the blanket itself did. He remembered hours, long past, sitting by the fire after a long patrol, exhausted and nursing a glass of Dorwinion while he listened to his parents talk. It had happened long ago, centuries, before he had chosen to become a cartographer, before he had known pain, before the arguments had filled their quarters and their heated discussions had led to his siblings and him leaving.

Half-lidded silver eyes looked up to him in a way that reminded Elrond of a broken toy, a stuffed bear missing an arm, quietly begging to be repaired.

Knowing not to press further and that the fear Soread held for men had not diminished because of a few exchanged words, Elrond spoke: „You look exhausted, Soread. You should rest."

As an answer, the elf huffed a joyless laugh. „After the conversation we've just had? I truly wish I had the courage to follow your suggestion, my Lord, but I am afraid I am too cowardly for that. Nay, I shall find no sleep tonight. My memories are already chasing me. I do not want them to take form in my dreams. I do not want to go back there."

* * *

Dawn was just approaching with gentle fingers, lighting up the darkness of the night, the moon still shining brightly above the save valley yet nearing the horizon. The sun would raise in maybe an hour, Elrond thought to himself as he lowered his book and rubbed his tired eyes. He had been reading for hours, unwilling to rise and leave. He had spent his night watching over Soread's sleep. Despite the cartographer's intention, sitting in the wide window seat without movement, the night behind the glass reminding his body of his exhaustion, the mapper had fallen asleep. Eyes half-lidded and glazed over, his head had lain against the cool glass, body still curled up even as his breathing had deepened further and further. He had seemed so much younger than in his waking hours. And it looked like a highly uncomfortable sleeping position.

Raising his gaze to check on Soread once more, the healer's eyes narrowed slightly. Something had changed, though he could not truly say what it was. Watching him for several minutes, it took him long to notice the nightmares the cartographer had foreseen had taken hold of him. There were no cries, no twitching or flaying of limbs, no frightened whimpers or moans, no tears. Only his breathing had picked up speed, quicker than it should be for a sleeping elf. Furthermore, now Elrond noticed how tense Soread's body was beneath the warm layers and the glow of oil lamp and the embers in the hearth caught in a slight sheen of sweat upon his brow.

Tucking the book away, Elrond stood, stretching slightly and straightening out his golden frock coat, the coarse fabric catching the dim light. He lowered himself to sit next to the huddled figure in the window seat, feeling his brow furrow and his heart ache as he took in just how curled up Soread slept. He had not slept this way at his last visit, he knew, and he felt anger bubble inside him like water in a cauldron over the fire.

His guest had taken off his weapons in the safety of his chambers, a sign of trust Elrond only knew now to fully appreciate. Knowing he would not find himself at the sharp end of a blade, the healer reached out and placed his hand gently on Soread's shoulder, hoping to raise him from his sleep. When the elf just jerked away without waking, the Noldo shook his shoulder and called his name in low voice.

Soread startled awake, eyes suddenly wide, both hands pushing against Elrond's chest with enough strength to nearly push the older elf to the floor. Coming to his feet in a stumble, the elf Lord took a step back and raised his hands, showing his guest his empty palms.

„Dago," the wood elf spoke, the word sounding like a click of his tongue, light, reminiscent of a bird's chirping. Pronunciation and context made Elrond think it might mean 'I apologize' or something along the lines in what must be the silvan language.

Despite his reaction, the mapper had caught on the situation very quickly, needing barely a few heartbeats to calm down the sudden panic rushing through his veins. Smiling slightly, he unfolded his legs, the blanket slipping from his shoulder, dragging several strands of hair across his face. Blinking rapidly, the remnants of his dreams still etched before his eyes, dancing before him like mocking ghostly figures, the elf felt more exhausted than before. Knowing he would fall right back to sleep should he remain seated only to be engulfed by his nightmare's strings right away, wrapping around him as tightly as a butterfly's cocoon, he got to his feet, blanket falling to the floor.

The mapper looked up when Elrond lowered his hands and his usual amicable smile was crooked. „You needn't have stayed with me. It was not my intention to steal your sleep from you."

„You are neither a thief nor have you stolen anything from me."

„As much as I regret to inform you, my Lord, I am indeed a thief. It is a skill I attempt not to fall back to for it is one my mother has very little patience for regardless of motivations, yet I have applied it on several occasions, especially during the last few years. Though allow me to assure you I have not stolen anything from you nor would I dare to."

The honesty reminded Elrond that even though Soread was dear to him he knew very little of his life. However, one thing he became more and more aware of was the fact that apparently it did not sit right with the elf if anyone thought too well of him nor did he enjoy being the centre of attention.

„Freshen up," the healer ordered, ignoring Soread's answer. Looking at how thin the elf was, he should have done some more stealing. „I'll be back in a few minutes. We go outside for a while."

Slipping out of the room with a backwards glance, Elrond proceeded to stretch his stiffened spine and arms as he walked down the hallway. His destination was not far, after all Soread's chambers were located two doors down of the ones he shared with his wife. He quietly pressed the door handle down and stepped into the dark sitting area beyond. The approaching dawn enabled the healer to see shades and distinguish the furniture, though there was no colour still. His eyes ghosted towards the door leading to his bedroom and his lips tilted into a soft smile as he thought of his beloved wife. But the bedroom as not his destination. He needed a thick warm cloak for Soread to ward off the cold. His guest's body, exhausted by more than one cause, could not defend against the chill and though the spring days were warm and joyous, the rain had cooled down land and air and it would take several hours before the rising sun could counter the rain's aftermath.

Opening the cupboard, Elrond felt more than saw the cloaks within, searching for thick wool.

Hands snuck around his torso from behind, coming to rest against his chest and a soft body pressed against his back. Smiling, the Lord of Imladris placed his hand on top of Celebrian's, tracing the outline of her fingers, turning his head.

„I did not mean to wake you," he whispered.

„Were you with Soread until now?" Her breath tickled against his hair and Elrond twisted in her arms so he could embrace her.

„Yes, I was. I am taking him outside. His night was infused by nightmares," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

„Did you get some sleep?"

„No, I am afraid not. But I could not have left him, not after the conversation I forced upon him. Watching over his sleep was the least I could do to sooth his soul." The healer sighed, pulling Celebrian closer and resting his chin against her temple, feeling her hair against his skin. He closed his eyes and just focused on his breathing for a few precious moments before he drew away. Turning, he took his thick winter cloak from the wardrobe as well as another, thinner garment barely more than decoration for himself. Though Soread never complained and took his help with grace, Elrond knew most elves to be sensitive about needing an extra layer to face the weather when they were sick or hurt.

„Should you wish to stay with Soread for longer, I can greet our guests on my own. Do not feel the need to hurry should he require your aid," Celebrian said, watching his every move.

He smiled, placing the two cloaks over his arm. Thanking her, he pressed a quick kiss against her cheek and then headed towards the door.

„Elrond," said Celebrian, causing her husband to turn around to her once more. With the heels of his shoes giving her a disadvantage, the beautiful she-elf had to straighten slightly to kiss Elrond's lips. Her hands found his and the healer felt a small leather pouch pressed into his palm.

„I will see you for breakfast, darling," said Celebrian, her breath ghosting over her husband's skin and her voice filled with a loving smile that was lost in the shadows. Squeezing his hands, she turned away and retreated towards their bedroom.

Opening the pouch and reaching inside, Elrond smiled when he found what was inside: An assortment of nuts. He did not tend to have nut-filled pouches lying about their quarters so Celebrian must have prepared this for herself to take with her to provide for their young friend. With a smile, the two cloaks and the pouch in hand, Elrond left his quarters and returned to Soread's chambers.

The cartographer was standing close in front of the hearth, staring inside the flickering embers, his gaze intense enough that Elrond halfway expected a darting flame to erupt from one of the logs. Though his clothing was crumbled, Soread's hair was drawn back in a single braid speaking of skilful practice, leaving his face unframed for once, an unusual sight enhancing the shadows cast in hollow cheeks.

The air outside was crisp and moist, the sandy courtyard still wet and the constant sound of dripping water could be heard above the familiar thundering of rushing water. The wooden wind chimes danced in a fresh breeze and Soread pulled the cloak tighter around his neck. Still, the haunted look in his eyes had diminished, replaced by a natural joy. A soft smile had returned to his face and if his deep breathing was anything to go by, the cartographer savoured the clean air smelling of rain, wet moss, bark and grass as well as the sandy plain they were standing on. Taking him outside had been a good idea, Elrond surmised, knowing that the elf was unused to staying indoors. Giving his guest several minutes to enjoy the early morning, the Noldo then gestured towards the large gardens situated across the courtyard opposite the grand mansion.

They walked over stony pathways, the sand crunching underneath their leather boots. Soread treaded lightly and as he turned during his walk to marvel the beauty of the gardens he seemed more carefree than he had ever since Elrond had woken him from his slumber that first night in the Hall of Fire. His head was mostly tilted up, the canopy of scattered trees the most interesting to him. Yet as they passed flowerbeds, the blossoms still closed in chill, water droplets clinging to their haulms, Soread drops to a knee. Careful of the cloak as to not to soil it, he regarded a wild tulip from all angels.

Patiently waiting, his feet and back aching after a night spent sitting in an armchair, Elrond caught sight of a servant arriving for his morning shift. Knowing the elf in question, he signalled him and when the servant made to approach, he just gestured for wine to be brought. It was early in the morning, yet the healer felt he needed it after the long night he'd had. To him, it was still evening for he had never gone to sleep. Whether Soread wished to join him, he did not know.

It took them almost half an hour wandering through the maze of high bushes, flowerbeds and patches filled with healing plants. The sun rose slowly. At first, the sky above the mountain coloured bright yellow, slowly blending into the still dark night sky before it stretched and the darkness turned blue. Then the first rays peaked over the mountain rage and fell upon the protected valley. Soon after steam rose from the wet ground, quickly diffusing into the early morning. Elrond followed his guest who once again strayed back to the trees. While his plants were of great interest to the wood elf, it was the trees he was drawn to, his fingers running along the bark and his steps sure and directed. In fact, it took the healer several moments to realise Soread was walking with his eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips.

„Let us sit down," Elrond finally said, once he was certain he would not regain the wood elf's attention should he not demand it now. And he did wish to talk to him before he had to depart to greet his human guests.

Elrond led his guest towards a stone bench beneath an old, sturdy elm whose guarding branches dripped water down on them every now and then. The servant had thoughtfully brought a blanket and had placed on top of the harsh wet stone. The Lord of Imladris gestured for Soread to sit before he took the carafe filled with wine standing off on a stone table together with two glasses and poured himself a glass.

Wordlessly Soread moved to accept the wine. Pressing his lips together, fascinated by the elf's bluntness, Elrond hid his smile and handed over the filled glass before he reached for the second one which he truly poured for himself.

Taking a seat next to Soread, Elrond took a sip. They could oversee the gardens from their position but could also see a part of the courtyard between the high bushes and the Entrance Door of the mansion beyond. Just now, the door opened and Elrond smiled as his daughter stepped out. Arwen waved to him, pulling up the wide hood of her grey, flowing coat that was billowed by the breeze. With her ebony dark hair falling down her back like a waterfall, even the drizzle of early morning could not hide her beauty. Water droplets hang in the wool and her hair, making it sparkle like a sheen of diamonds.

Soread followed Arwen with his eyes as she wandered the gardens, her eyes lighting up with each flower she saw, gentle fingertips brushing along fragile petals. He did not fancy her however her beauty was astounding and just watching her brought joy to his heart.

Elrond must have noticed his attention shift towards his daughter for he spoke up: „Imladris has many beauties to offer yet Arwen overshines them all. She is my Evenstar, the most beautiful elleth in all of Arda."

Instantly, Soread wondered if his father had ever spoken about him with such pride. It was clear that the Lord of Imladris loved his daughter far beyond her beauty and his pride rang like the golden sound of bells in the early morning, clear and true, for all the world to hear.

Still quietly thinking of his father, Soread nodded gravely. „I am afraid you are mistaken, my Lord, for I know for certain, beautiful as the Evenstar she might be, your daughter is not the most beautiful elleth of Arda. For that would be my sister."

Elrond had tensed at his guest's grave tone; his brow had furrowed when the polite elf had claimed the healer's daughter not to be the most beautiful she-elf of Middle-Earth and then he had laughed upon hearing why. Soread smirked.

„I am afraid I shall have to disagree with you on that," the healer replied, unused to hearing a joke from his friend. Bad though it might be, it had caught him off guard.

Soread took the skilfully crafted glass sitting next to him. It had been a long time since he'd had wine, he mused, swirling the dark liquid and watching the droplets flow back down. Bringing it to his lips, the brim cool against his skin, Soread hesitated. He loved the smell of wine. Had always loved it, even though he would take hours to nurse a single glass instead of refilling it several times over the course of one evening like his mother would. Thinking of the heavy Dorwinion served in Greenwood, he once again recalled sitting in his parents' chambers, listening to them talk with his siblings while he watched the birds on the balcony or quietly looked over his maps while he ignored the banter and teasing around him.

Gone. Years past, centuries past.

„Do you miss your sister?" Elrond's voice cut through his thoughts and Soread realised he had lowered his wineglass and had stared ahead, watching a bird prune its wings.

„Let us not talk about my family," the cartographer spoke, raising his glass and taking a generous sip. Unused to the alcohol, the wine burned down his throat completely unexpected, making him cough. With tearing eyes, he twisted away, his wounds aching along his ribcage with the aggravated coughs. The glass was taken from his hand and he dimly heard Lord Elrond speak to his daughter before he felt his hand against his back. After a few seconds, he could breathe once more and brushed the tears from his face, holding his paining side. He probably tore a stitch with that, he thought grimly.

„A bit more slowly this time, if you will," Elrond said with a slight smile and returned the wine glass to Soread's hand.

More carefully this time, the young elf took a small sip, tasting the rich aroma fill his mouth even after he swallowed.

„You have yet to manage to have a five-minute conversation with me without bringing up a family member of yours." Elrond picked up his own glass while Soread lowered his eyes, feeling uncomfortably exposed. He had not realised he had mentioned his family so much. Greenwood was his home and he had missed it and had regretted the way he had left for many long years. Yet the torture he had had to endure … not a single day had gone past without him wishing he had returned, not a single day when he had not heard the wise elf's advice echo in his ears, advice he had so cowardly ignored at that crossroad.

„I cannot go back. I have brought to much shame over myself," he whispered, giving in for the Lord's eyes were heavy upon his shoulders like a boulder rushing down into the valley. Guilt for taking up his host's precious time, guilt for having ignored his advice, guilt for all the wrongs he had committed exhausted him to the bone.

„What do you mean by that?"

Soread stood abruptly, feeling too agitated to remain seated. He had no wish to burden his gracious host with his worries even more, recognizing that the elf had given up on his sleep despite receiving guests today. Still, he trusted Elrond and could not deny that talking to the wise elf eased his pain. The Noldo seemed so certain, his words steadfast and never wavering, so very unlike the cartographer's own feelings.

Long strides carried him away from the stone bench before he turned on his heel, walking back. The process repeated until the fight died away from the lost mapper. His shoulders slumped upon the realisation that he needed to talk about the one thing weighing on his mind. Nonetheless, he did not have the courage to face the healer openly. Seeking to sooth his agitation, the wood elf did what he always did: He searched for the closeness of the trees. Stepping up towards the nearest tree, he pressed his hands against the bark, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips, his finger running along the deep lines. Resting his forehead against the tree as well, he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He could feel the tree's spirit stir underneath his touch, could feel its gentle yet wordless reassurance. "He means well, little one. I know him from the days I was a samara still. His council is wise."

„Tell me something I don't know," said Soread, mumbling the words too low for his host to hear. He felt amusement and encouragement stream through his hands.

„You miss Greenwood," said Elrond, tilting the precariously swaying balance of the wood elf's indecision.

„Of course I do," he replied, forehead and palms firmly resting against the bark. The Noldo found he looked at peace and fully relaxed, a rare sight indeed. „I miss my siblings. My parents. I just … I just want to know my brother's name."

„Return home."

„I can't. Not anymore. There might have been a chance but with my indecision and with my weakness, I have taken it away from myself." Shoulders slumped, shaking his head, fingers digging deeper into the bark's creases.

„What do you mean? What has changed since our last conversation?"

All pride leaving him, Soread breathed in the familiar mossy aroma of wet bark, pushing away, one hand lingering even as he turned. He faced his host. „Elrond, please tell me, how should I ever stand before my father again and look him in the eyes? I have gone against his words, I have brought shame over myself."

Instantly the healer's thoughts went to his own sons. He imagined Elrohir or Elladan sitting in someone else's house and asking the same question, asking a greenwood host how they could ever look into their father's eyes again while Elrond himself sat here in Imladris and worried about his lost son. The thought nearly tore him apart. Everything led back to Soread's family in one way or the other, even those horrors that had nothing to do with the elf's parents.

„Soread, what are you talking about?"

„Two years! I was a slave, Elrond, for two years." Soread huffed, raising his hand as if to brush back locks of silver hair only to find them still tied back in his braid.

„A slave, my friend, is someone who is by definition forced into servitude. It was not your free will. They tortured you."

„Yes, I do recall, thank you," the cartographer snapped sarcastically. He wet his lips. „I wasn't in the army for nothing. And though my heart knew for it not to be my calling, I wanted to fight for my land and my skill and dedication certainly allowed me to do so. Do not mistake me, my Lord, I was a great soldier, a skilled soldier. Had I wanted to, I could have cut those men down before they even lay bonds on me. Yet I did not. For despite all warnings, I still believed it to be a mistake. I thought they'd let me go once they ascertained I meant them no harm. I walked into slavery and never touched my weapons. My father might not have wished for me to follow his footsteps and rain death upon my enemies on the battlefield, but despite his worries I earned his pride by doing so. He defends those who cannot defend themselves. But those who do have both skill and physical ability and still chose to cower back, those he scorns, and my mother despises so much she spits at their feet. How can I ever stand before either of them a coward?"

* * *

 _ **Please review!**_

 **Somehow, this chapter ended up being far longer than I had planned. I rewrote this about ten times and I hope you enjoy it. What do you think of Soread's attitude and concerns? Believable for him?**

 **Thesvottishpanda:** Thank you so very much for dropping a review! Seeing how many people read your story is not even remotely the same as receiving reviews telling me they enjoyed it, so thank you for taking the time! Please, feel welcome to continue reviewing ;)

 **earthdragon:** I wanted Soread to sound racist. In my mind, he is a complex character and I hope it is clear that he had his reasons for his words as well as that they do not fully mirror what he thinks about the race of men. He had been wronged and has yet to learn how to handle it. With all his worries and concerns, he had just never given himself the time to. You are right about Celebrian. I knew this, yet obviously forgot while writing that last chapter. I'll go back and change it, thank you for pointing it out. You know a lot about Tolkien's work, don't you? Thanks for leaving such detailed reviews! I really love and appreciat them greatly!


	8. 8: The Shade of the Elm Tree

„Soread, you did not cower back. You did not restrain yourself for the lack of bravery. You chose to not make use of your weapons and though this choice has proven wrong in hindsight, it does not change the circumstances under which you have made it." Brown eyes bore down on the cartographer and the elf Lord ignored the breeze that picked at his hair and the hem of his light coat. Around them, the trees whispered, and several leaves rained down on them, some landing on the silver sea of Soread's head and remaining there.

„I allowed it to happen." Soread's hands were shaking and he braced himself against the elm tree. „I allowed them to inflict pain upon me and even then I did not wish to retaliate. I have seen the evil of orcs yet the evil of men … I refused to believe any sentient being could carry such foulness in its heart. My parents raised me to see the truth even if hidden behind words or masks yet when the truth revealed itself I stood frozen and could not gather the courage to shatter my own perceptions, could not gather the courage to accept my father was right and I was wrong. I was a fool. Though it might not be cowardice in the traditional more obvious sense, it certainly was cowardice, my Lord."

„You are young still. How old are you, my friend?"

The mapper looked up and confusion was written in the lines forming around his eyes. „A few years younger than your sons, my Lord."

Younger. Valar, Elrond could have sworn the elf was older by at least a few years. Or maybe that had been wishful thinking, even though a few summers would hardly change the fact that this elf was too young to have suffered so, too young to be torn the way he was. And they currently had the fortune to live at peace.

„Everyone makes mistakes. Especially in youth. Do you wish for me to list the mistakes my own sons have made during this last year alone?"

Soread snorted softly, causing Elrond to smirk.

„I rather think their mistakes will not have been as dire as mine have been in recent years", he admitted, leaning against the elm but his hands vanishing comfortably in the coat's pockets. He appeared more relaxed now.

Elrond rolled his eyes. „Just to mention one, they did think it was a splendid idea to argue with a mountain troll they came across instead of running away." He sobered up at the memory of how he had found his sons when they had not returned on time and he had gone out to search for them. „Elladan had gotten both his legs broken and Elrohir had a severe head injury. Their mistakes were as dire as yours for they could have cost their lives. They are young and in a situation they had never been confronted with before, they reacted under pressure."

„Forgive me for having implied my own burdens to be heavier than your sons. I had not thought them to have been grievously injured." As always, the apology was sincere and spoken without Soread turning away, though his cheeks had coloured in embarrassment. „I have only seen them joke in childish banter and I envied them for their freedom. Apparently, they are simply stronger than I had come them to expect and managed what I have not: To overcome the pain they suffered."

„Save your apologies, my friend. My sons live a far more protected life than I know you do. The point I was attempting to make was not to diminish your suffering. I was trying to show you that young people make mistakes more easily for they lack experience. Do you truly believe your own father to not have made similar mistakes in his youth? Do you truly believe your mother to never have done something she would now scorn herself for if she were to react the same way now? Even if you were a coward, which in my eyes you are certainly not, you are young and despite your experiences you cannot expect yourself to be without fault. I make mistakes still. Your father, your mother, they make mistakes still. You will in the future."

He was finally getting through to the mapper who looked contemplative now. Standing up, Elrond strode across to the elf, grasping his shoulders and bending slightly in the knees so that his eyes were level with Soread's silver own. „I have only had the pleasure of your presence for a few weeks," he started, speaking softly, yet firmly, „however, I know you are no coward. Trusting is not cowardice. It is valour for you open yourself to a hurt deeper than the physical could ever be. Your father and your mother, whatever discussion and fights may lie between you, know you far better than I for they have not only watched you grow into the elf you are today, they raised you. And judging by how much you love your father and how you describe his concern when you joined the army, he cannot have been a bad father. Even if they do not see the same valour in your decisions that I do, they will forgive you a mistake made in inexperience. They shall not abandon you for this."

Several heartbeats passed as they stared each other in the eye. Elrond's hands remained firm on the cartographer's shoulder as to ground his words. That the elf had not shied from the contact was a good omen in the elf Lord's view.

„I left with so much anger in my heart", Soread finally said softly, turning his head away. „An anger I still carry with me to this day."

„Anger towards your parents? For having your baby brother?" The mapper's shoulders tensed and Elrond let go of him, taking a step back and retreating back to the stone bench.

„Yes. How could I have forgiven them after what I have had to suffer? The world is a cruel place, my Lord."

A spray of water droplets rained down amidst more leaves as another breeze brushed through the high boughs. The sun was bathing the wet plants and ground in its bright sparkles and warmed Elrond's skin before the breeze took the warmth away. They had solved one issue it seemed, yet Soread appeared adamant he would not return home, bringing forth his second argument as if wishing for his host to argue it away as well.

„When King Thranduil came to Imladris," Elrond started and at the mention of his King, Soread straightened and his eyes narrowed, „he was accompanied by Crown Prince Alcanor. I was surprised to see him bear arms for he was so young, a child still, a boy. Yet the implicitness with which he carried himself told me he knew how to handle those weapons he bore. Tell me Soread, how old were you when they taught you how to fight?"

„I fail to see where you are going with this." Soft threats warning the Noldo Lord to not judge the Royal Family of Greenwood in the cartographer's presence.

„Humour me, please," Elrond smiled, raising his hands in defensive manner.

„It was the day I counted two centuries."

„And may I require if that was by choice?"

The long pauses before his replies spoke of Soread's thoughtfulness, each word carefully weighed before spoken. For a moment he looked around and his eyes settled on Elrond's daughter once more, watching her for a few heartbeats before his gaze moved on. „It was not", he finally said, scanning the trees around him. „Though children we might have been, we still need to know how to protect ourselves. An orc will not spare us for our youth and there are many more orcs than there were after the Great War." He glanced back at Elrond and relaxed when the Noldo made no move to twist the words to gain a different meaning.

„You mirror the words of your King, my friend," Elrond said instead. „At the time he arrived here at Imladris with his son hardened for battle, you too were already learning to fight."

„I still do not see the purpose of your words." He was nervous, biting his lower lip, hands twisting in the pockets of his coat.

„Soread, at the time you were conceived, already your home was darkening. Are you angry at your parents for your own conception as well? Would you say that the bad outweighs the good in your life?"

Dawning crept over fair features and the nervous glow in Elrond's chest settled down when Soread lowered his gaze to settle on the floor for the first time. His shoes dug into the ground and it appeared as if he was attempting to form a circle with the heel of his right boot.

„You mean…", he started and quieted then, biting his lip once more.

„You are a cartographer, Soread. Yet you have told me you were an able soldier, a skilled soldier. Would you sit idly by when the time came to pressure children into the army?" Elrond folded his hands around his right knee and leant back, holding his balance.

„Never."

„So you too would join? Maybe other's as well, other who have never served and have no skill with bow and arrow?"

„Yes. Others would join."

„Yet you still think your baby brother will only suffer in this world even though many of your people would step up to the fight if need be so that he will not have to."

Soread's brow furrowed and he extracted his right hand from the pocket, pressing the heel against his right eye. „Your argument doesn't make any sense."

Elrond nodded. While he could still see where he had wished to go with that argument, he admitted to himself he had not managed to wrap it into words as well as he had hoped. He searched for the proper words and when he thought he had found them he opened his mouth. Only to close it once more. Soread looked exhausted. Too many arguments were already whirring in his head and now he had pressed both heels against his eyes and was slowly sliding down the tree trunk until he crouched at its base, his back touching the rough bark.

It took a few minutes for the young elf to find his composure. Then his hands dropped and he rested his arms on top of his knees.

„Are you alright?" Elrond asked once the wood elf made no move to stand up. The answering smile was a relief.

„Am just tired, t'is all. You have given me much to think about." His head tilted back and Soread looked in the bright blue sky and the fluffy clouds hurrying across it. Then he suddenly flinched and shot to his feet in alarm, causing his host also to shoot up.

„Must you not greet your guests this morning, my Lord? Have I held you up? I did not realize how far morning has come during our conversation."

„Calm yourself! You always take the blame when I would be just as responsible. And no, my guests have not arrived yet. There is plenty of time for breakfast and some preparations before I go down to the gates."

Relief flooding him, Soread sighed softly before he bowed. „Then let us eat." Though he himself felt neither hunger nor appetite, he would not bereft his gracious host from his morning meal as well after he had already berefted him of his sleep.

Celebrian was already waiting for them, patiently sitting in the Hall of Fire and reading a book opened in her lap. As they entered, she closed her book and kissed her husband good morning before she turned to Soread.

„Did you enjoy the gardens?"

„I did very much. The trees are kind here and welcoming. They speak highly of you, my fair Lady, and of you as well, my Lord." The ceiling did not appear to be as low and heavy as it had been just yesterday, his wood elf's spirits risen by the time spent among the trees, flowers and bushes outside.

„You actually talk to them? May I ask: Do they speak words or is it more of a feeling they use when you communicate with them?" The question was spoken with such curiosity it was obvious that it was one that had born on the Lady's mind for many years.

Soread allowed for her questions to distract him from the thoughts running through his mind, allowed the conversation about trees and forests to distract him from his worries. Though he had needed the conversation with Lord Elrond, it had started to overwhelm him. Later he would have the time to sort through his memories once again when his thoughts had settled down a bit.

Once again Celebrian had to remind him to eat every now and when for the cartographer got distracted by his food too often, no feeling of hunger of appetite fixing his attention.

After breakfast, Soread spend a few more hours in the garden while the Lady and the Lord of Imladris went to greet and entertain their guests. Guards were standing at the narrow bridge Soread had passed over at his first visit and they also guarded every other way to the manor. When the cartographer walked towards the bridge and crossed it towards the narrow path by the mountain side, the guard did not pay him any heed, making no attempt to stop him. His only duty was to keep men out of the set perimeter.

Later, Soread returned to the Lord's study. Spreading his materials once more, he found himself surprised by just how much joy his work brought him once again. For years he could not have bothered with taking up a pencil or brush and now the urge to draw had returned. He was interrupted a few hours later by Jeweth who had been asked to bring him food.

The days passed in a similar fashion, with Elrond and Celebrian spending their days with their guests while Soread rested or simply sat beneath the large elm tree for hours. The elf struggled to feel wholly comfortable around the lively twins and so he tended to avoid them despite their gracious offers to take him along to whatever they were up to. Instead he spent a few hours each day with Arwen and Elrond might have hoped for some time for the two of them to grow closer. Alas, Soread still preferred solace even to Arwen's calm presence.

* * *

„Are you alright?" Elrond asked with sleepy voice when Celebrian carefully extracted herself from his tight embrace. She had woken in the middle of the night, curled up into his side. Long fingers brushed lovingly over her arm.

„I just need a drink, my love," Celebrian smiled. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his cheek. Smiling about the mumbled 'I love you' she received, the she-elf quietly stood. She stepped into the moon-light filled sitting area, quickly finding herself a glass and the caraffe filled with clear water. Feeling wide awake despite the late or rather early hour, she sat down at the table in the corner without bothering to light a candle. Nursing her glass of water, she sat there for several minutes. Knowing she would not be able to go back to sleep right now, she stood and put on a nightgown, wishing to walk the hallway down to the large balcony and enjoy the fresh crispness of night for a few minutes before she returned to bed. Not bothering with a candle for she knew these corridors well, the Lady closed the door shut behind her. Humming to herself, she wandered down the corridor, only to stop after just a few meters. Light was streaming out from underneath the door of Soread's chambers.

Worry creased her forhead and she tied the cord of her nightgown around her waist. Of course she knew of the long conversations between him and her husband, yet Elrond would never divulge secrets that were not his to tell unless given permission. Therefore, while she suspected, she had not asked Elrond for confirmation of her fears.

The sound of her knuckles against wood remained quiet and was not met with an answer. The door handle felt cold under her touch. Pressing the beautifully twisted iron handle down, she carefully opened the door.

Soread sat wide-awake without any indication of sleep. Once more his hair was tied back in a sloopy bun and he was fully dressed, boots still on his feet.

He looked up and smiled slightly, however his eyes shone with tiredness nonetheless.

„I could not sleep," he admitted before she even had to ask. He did not seem to question her presence at this time in the morning. „Will you keep me company, my Lady?"

She sat down next to him, tucking her legs up underneath her. „Of course," she said and leaned over to the armchair to pick up the grey blanket thrown over the armrest. While she had intended to enjoy the chill of the night, she had intended to do so with the prospect of returning to her bed after a few minutes, already warmed by her husband. Sitting still would make the chill less enjoyable.

„When are your guests leaving?" Soread asked, openly showing his interest. Elrond had rearranged his schedule and had organized for the lessons to be held in the first week of the men's visit. Instead of having lessons on some days and time to explore the valley on others, Lord Glorfindel would take the group to see the valley tomorrow and part from them at the corssroad where they would head for the Gap of Rohan while the elf from Gondolin would return on his own. This way, Soread would only have to endure the men's presence for about ten days, days that had passed by now.

„They leave after breakfast. I was hoping you would allow me to show you the city once more once they are gone. While of course you have already seen it, there are many places in full beauty now that were looking rather sad during autumn when I showed you."

He smiled brightly, his truthfull joy more touching than any gift the elf might have offered. „I would love to, my Lady. In fact, I had hoped to travel your valley for some time, if you allow. I hope to draw a map of it but so far I have seen too little of it."

„Certainly."

„May I show you something?" Soread said, smiling politely while his eagerness still shone vividely in his speech.

„Of course," Celebrian chuckled, tucking up her blanket to her waist. She leant forward and turned the flame of the oil lamp higher.

„I only just started upon my arrival so it will be a while before it is finished," Soread said even while he extracted one of his maps from its protective hull. Spreading it across the low table before them, Celebrian found herself breathless almost at once. She had seen Soread's maps. Had seen the maps the cartographer had drawn of Rohand and those of Udun. Yet this one was of tthe Hidden Valley with the path towards Imladris mapped out. The surrounding areas, everything the mapper had not yet seen, were blank. But the city of Imladris took up a large portion of the map, sitting proudly in its center. Rough lines of the mountains surrounded it in scetches with notes accompanying them, small pictures that must mean something to the cartographer even as they remained scribbles to her.

Instead of starting to talk about his craft, Soread gave her time to marvel the beginnings of a map before her.

„Your husband gave me sound advice once more," the elf started after a while, brushing over the lines of the crossroad south of Imladris. Turning to look at him, Celebrian found him staring down at his map, worrying his lip with his fingers.

„I am sure he did. Elrond's council is often wise. But wisedom is not always what is needed. If his council is wrong for you, then that is the way it is."

„Nay, I know his council to be true and I know I must heed it." He smiled tiredly, sighing deeply.

„But?" Celebrian prompted, placing a hand on Soread's arm and smiling when he did not flinch away.

„But I fear I may not be strong enough to take it. I have already made the mistake once of not heeding his advice and I have suffered for it yet now, given a second chance, I begin to doubt I will be strong enough this time."

„You are strong enough, Soread. That I know."

„I thank you for your confidence, my Lady. I just wish I could share it."

„May I inquire what he has adviced you to do?"

„To return home," Soread said. And then he leant back and his lids lowered to halfway cover his eyes. The tale of the last years of his life he told next sent shivers down Celebrian's spine as he confirmed her deepest fears. When he spoke about his torture in just a few short, inexplicit sentences, Celebrian took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his, sensing the trembling that would not show.

* * *

Long gras whispered in the soft wind wafting through its long haulms. Small, unremarkable flowers adorned some tips, opening in the warming day of beginning summer. In the midst of the green sea, a dry road crossing lay silent underneath the wide sky. A salamander sunning in the early warmth quickly scurried away when soft steps grew closer. Sand crunched under leather soles of a tall figures.

The crossroad lay before him and Soread felt his face turn grim.

Three weeks had passed. Soread had grown more and more agitated after his return to the city. He had left for six days, loadened with a bag filled with food. Travelling the valley, taking notes and crafting quick maps during his time in the wilderness, he had spent hours holed up in Elrond's study and had drawn his maps. The elf Lord found himself simply accepting that the high table closer to the door now belonged to Soread. Though each evening when Elrond caught his guest's attention and insisted he finished for the day lest he spent his entire night leaning over those large parchments and papers, Soread thouroughly tidied the table and the trace left was the blank surface that would never normally be this unoccupied.

The wood elf, long since lost to his people, looked down the road to the east where he knew his home to be, the vast, lush forest of Greenwood with its high and mighty trees, sheltering the elves living within. Then, he looked down the road to the west, the door to Eriador, a land that held more pain and caution for him than any other and yet a land he knew held more beauty than he had seen so far.

Sighing deeply, Soread turned right, once again turning his back on the route home. Striding down the familiar path, the wind blew from the mountains into the valley, picking up on his hair and blowing it in his face. Soread stopped. Slowly he turned and looked at the crossroad. His courage had failed him the last time.

„Thank you, Lord Elrond," he spoke softly to himself, feeling as though his worries fell on his shoulders once more. The Lord had given him good advice. An advice which this time he was strong enough to take.

And so, the wood elf turned on his heels and soon his wide steps turned into a quick run. He was going home, despite the worry aching at his heart. He did not slow down for he feared if his pace were to lessen, he would once more be tempted to return.

Greenwood came first. No matter the pain that awaited him, no matter the fights. Greenwood came first.

* * *

 ** _Please review!_**


	9. 9: Hello Ada

Greenwood was beautiful. Soread had missed his home yet he had not known just how much he had missed the lush forest with its seemingly endless sea of trees. Moos grew in the shade of large, ancient trees, birds flew underneath the foliage, the leafy roof fifty and more meters above Soread's head. High branches, thick with age and their bark smoothed by the feet of hundreds of wood elves running along them levitated in the air. Small saplings growing in between their elders where the branches had shifted for light to fall down on them. Massive roots, thick and strong like the bodies of snakes, twisted above the ground before they vanished in the depths of the rich soil, guideposts to those who knew them, turning the path into a climb often enough while in other areas the ground was flat and layered with the leaves of several autumns. Stones jutting from the forest like old wounds, leaves hidden in crevices, moos sneaking up the steep incline, splintered edges occupied by reptiles bathing in the little spots of sun. It was beautiful.

Soread loved his home and for a time he was tempted to simply lose himself in his maps once more, to ignore the distant fortress where his family resided. The rock cavern castle was not only the residency of Greenwood's Royal Family, it was also one of the largest elven settlements with several thousand elves living in the ginormous caves. And yet, whenever he sat in quiet, leaning relaxed against a tree, listening to the ever-present song of the forest, his thoughts would drift back to his time spend in Imladris. Both Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian had encouraged him to return and their encouragement had not been for him to continue avoiding his family.

Chewing on the bark of a nightwood tree, Soread leaned forward, staring at his drawing supplies generously spread over the forest floor before him. Between his parchments he had not been able to find a single map of Greenwood anymore. Picking up a brush, the wood elf tilted it until the shadowy drawings along its shaft caught the light of the sun. The brush was old and well used. The drawings used to be so bright it was impossible to miss them but now one could only see them when held at a certain angle to the light, the colour itself gone. For the last years, this brush had remained in a case of soft leather marked with similar drawings. Leaves. His mother had gifted him these supplies when he had finished his apprenticeship, his silvan name written in elegant letters on the leather.

Setting the brush aside, carefully returning it next to the assortment of pens, small knives, pencils and other brushes in the case, Soread sighed as he leant back. He had to go home. Once more he thought of the many hours sitting in Imladris' gardens or in his chambers with his hosts, remembering the arguments they had given and their encouragement. He needed to go home. Ignoring the tight ball of ice pressing against his heart and infecting it with its cold veins of fear, Soread quickly gathered his meagre belongings and returned them all to their rightful places. Slinging his two leather tubes back on his back, he pushed to his feet in a single elegant motion.

Guards were standing to each side of the narrow bridge of the main entrance, heavy doors of thickened stone, that could be closed and bound by magic. The fortress served both as a deep-set vault for the treasures in gold and precious stones, and as stronghold for the elves in times of danger. The guards' features were hidden behind thin chainmail and their gloved hands were holding long spears, the blade on top sharp and pointy, shining over their heads in the light of the sun. The ground fell away in a steep chasm at which bottom was the distant raging of a wild, violent river. The sharp sides promised painful death to any and all who would be foolish enough to fall. The main entrance opened into the vast caverns of the Entrance Hall. Soread knew a wide corridor going off to the left leading directly to the healing ward. Beyond the Entrance Hall lay the deep halls of the Throne Room.

For a moment he entertained the idea of requesting an audience to formally inform his King of his return to the forest, but the moment was fleeting for he knew he could not stand before the King before he stood before his Ada. If he was even in the castle, he thought with a grain of hope. Maybe he was out with the Realm's soldiers, maybe his mother would be on patrol.

Fighting to remain calm, wetting his lips and clenching his fingers several times, Soread walked across the narrow bridge, barely looking at the guards to the mountain castle . One of them turned his head ever so slightly as if the breeze had pushed his chin to the side, and his eyes widened. The action alone caused the cartographer to look his way and he smiled, the knot in his stomach loosening for a moment when he recognized the elf. They had served together and had remained close friends after he had left the army. A searching look, trained to take everything in, swept over him with the power of a bird's wingbeat, serious and harsh. The hand holding onto the spear tightened, leather stretching slightly over strong knuckles.

Knowing his friend was not supposed to move at all, Soread quickly signed in passing that they could meet tomorrow night in front of the gates. A quick flick was the answer, the guard's response barely visible.

The caverns were how he had remembered them. Silvans lived in the forest and brought scorn upon those who dwelled in caves and yet not a single word would leave their tongues against the fortress King Thranduil had built with the aid of Sindar and Silvans alike. These halls bore not the cold harshness of dwarven building despite their part in early delving of the caverns, instead it shone of the warm song of old, ancient trees. A fresh breeze always seemed to sweep through these halls and the smell earth and bark alike lingering in the moist air had Soread feel as free as if the roof above him was made of the startling green of summer leaves.

His heart thumbed painfully strong inside his chest and Soread tread carefully through the well-known corridors of the castle. He was scared. The long carpet muffled his silent steps, feeling soft beneath his threadbare leather boots. The pictures on the walls, the view from the windows, the wood and stone around him, the colourful tapestries and the very smell in the air, it all reminded him of home. With every step he took closer to his family's rooms, his breathing grew more laboured and Soread's lips pressed together. His heart felt as if it were skipping beats. Knowing he would be unable to move if he slowed down, the cartographer's steps widened instead. It was not far anymore.

An elfling ran into the corridor, giggling to himself. Upon seeing Soread, he stopped abruptly and looked up. Suddenly feeling very tall, the mapper came to an abrupt stop in the empty hallway, staring down. The small being had big blue innocent eyes and a sparkle to them that made the cartographer's heart ache, knowing his own to be haunted and hooded in comparison. Soft features could not hide who this boy was. His baby brother whom he had never met. He was so small. His arms and legs thin like twigs, dimples implying cheek and those big questioning eyes. His nameless little brother.

The elfling cocked his head to the right, looking at him with a childish frown upon his soft brow. And then, his face brightened, a big grin appearing.

"Are you my brother?" the boy asked, his blond hair so fair it almost seemed white escaping the child's braid and wafting around his face. For several seconds, Soread could only gape at the boy, who started bouncing on the balls of his feet in impatience. He knew. The boy had never met him yet the child had known he had another brother and had recognized him instantly, despite his narrow frame and ragged, foreign clothing that no doubt distinguished him greatly from his other siblings and any paintings the little one might have seen.

"Yes, I am," Soread finally said, his voice soft and full of wonder. He was so innocent, this little elfling. So pure. And as he spoke the boy broke into laughter and started running, launching himself at him. Swiftly and without conscious effort, Soread kneeled to welcome the embrace. Tiny arms wrapped around his neck and held onto him so tightly as if to choke him. The boy's back felt narrow and fragile underneath Soread's large hand and as he smelled the little child's soft hair and gently brushed through it with a shaking hand, he could not stop the burning of his eyes nor the tears that escape him. His baby brother. Soread would protect him with his last breath, that much was certain. He felt so small and fragile in his embrace. Tiny and vulnerable. Heat rushed over him in the sudden fear that he could break those thin limbs with a touch too harsh.

"Ion-nin?" A deep resonating voice cut through the peaceful moment and Soread stiffened. It was his father's voice.

"Where are you, squirrel?" Steps accompanied the question, coming closer. Soread let go of the little boy and straightened, swallowing and feeling all his fear rush back over him. He flinched when a small hand wrapped around his fingers.

"Ada!" The boy exclaimed, attempting to pull Soread forwards but the cartographer stood frozen. And then, their Adar rounded the corner, dressed smartly in a silver coat over black trousers and tunic, silver-blond hair swept back out of his face. He stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze focusing on Soread at once. His mouth opened in surprise before he caught himself. Swiftly, his icy eyes lowered to take in Soread's hand, still wrapped securely in the much smaller hand of the little boy. Brows rose.

"See, Ada! He is here! I told you he would come because I wished it when I blew out the candle! I wished it and now he is here!"

Was that worry in his father's gaze? Worry for whom? Soread could not have moved even if he wanted to. Instead he morphed his face into a mask not showing the emotions raging within him. It was his father. His lips shook with suspension and he pressed them together more tightly, heart beating in his throat.

The tall elf looked down at the excited elfling. "Sure, squirrel, I am sure that was it." He glanced up at Soread and then back down. "Go to your mother, ion-nin. Let me talk to your brother for a moment." Their Ada's voice was incredibly gentle as he warmly smiled down at the small elfling, who nodded in excitement and then ran past his father towards their chambers. Suddenly, Soread's fingers felt cold, bereft of the trusting hand. The proud elf, who had looked after his small son, turned to face Soread once more and met his gaze. The smile had vanished and was replaced by caution.

He looked the same, Soread noticed, searching the so familiar features, the sharp eyes, aristocratic straight nose, sharply lined lips and chiselled chin. Maybe he should not have returned, he thought with sudden heat. Maybe his Ada had wanted him to stay away. Fear reared up its ugly head inside his chest. Would his father cast him away once he knew what Soread had done? All the mistakes he had made? Would he even allow Soread to be part of his baby brother's life?

"You came back," the other finally said, watchful eyes scanning him. The imposing elf sounded guarded as if though he was afraid to say something wrong.

"Hello Ada," Soread spoke softly. His words were raw and soft, yet still echoing in the empty hallway. With wide eyes and an awkward posture, he could only stare at the tall elf. But all his Ada did was to smile lightly, as if surprised by the title bestowed upon him by his son, and a bit uncertain.

"Hello ion-nin," he replied in soft tone, the smile still on his lips. Soread's mouth opened and he felt tears sting in his eyes. Where was the anger he had expected, the disappointment? The wait was unbearable. When would the yells come, when the cold commands to leave Greenwood once again? He had been gone for several decades and arrived without warning, yet all his father did was to echo his own sentiment uttered in the void of other words.

"For how long will you stay?" His father asked carefully, slowly taking a step closer.

Soread swallowed. Taking the time to take several deep breaths, he worked up the courage to answer. A small part of him dared to hope he would not be sent away. A small, desperate part.

"For longer, if you allow?" His voice was barely a whisper, lost and hardly audible but of course the other heard. Heard and smiled, his eyes softening. His father nodded slightly and then stepped closer. He looked him in the eyes, searching for something. Then he slowly hugged Soread, pulling his narrow-framed son against his chest. Although his grasp was strong, he held the cartographer with no force and instead a gentleness softened his embrace that rivalled Lord Elrond's careful speech.

He hugged him. For years, Soread had been in agony, wishing to return home yet knowing, thinking he would not be welcome. He had carried the pain branded deeply into his soul. And now … His Ada embraced him. No raised hand in threat, no yells, no judgment. Nothing. Just an embrace, soft words and careful smiles.

It took seconds before Soread's brain finally caught up to what was happening, and he could move his stiffened body, hesitantly returning the embrace. His lungs reminded him that he needed to breathe and with the soft air streaming in, carrying the familiar smell of burning oak that always clung to his father, the young elf relaxed.

"Are you angry at me?" Soread could not help but ask, his fingers trembling against the coarse fabric of his father's frock coat. He had his eyes closed and his breathing vibrated in his lungs, heart beating as if he had run.

The other elf drew away, his hands resting on Soread's shoulders. He smiled warmly, his blue eyes glinting.

"Not right now," he smirked before frowning. His gaze left Soread's face, travelled down over his body. "You look dreadful, my son."

A laugh escaped the cartographer's chest, the admonishment reminiscent of Elrond's words and yet so much more direct. His laugh sounded choked even to his own ears.

"Forgive my words, Ada. I was wrong to speak them. Forgive my harshness and my flight. Forgive my stubbornness and my temper. Please, Ada, please forgive what I have done to you and Nana," he begged instead of replying to the statement. His father frowned deeply, squeezing his shoulders. This time, concern was obvious in his eyes.

"You are my son. I forgive you." As if to underline his words, a large thumb gently brushed across his cheek wiping away tears Soread had not felt fall. "And now, let us go. Your mother has missed you greatly. As have I." The firm words shook the chains around Soread's heart, and the anxiousness held down by them fled his soul. His hands fell to his side when his father stepped away and made to return to their chambers.

"Ada!" Soread stopped him. "My brother … what is his name?"

His father stopped and turned and then his lips curved into a smile. And he answered.

 ** _The End_**

* * *

So this is it. I hope you all enjoyed this story and the ending. I am considering writing an epilogue at one point so if you have requests or ideas, let me know. To those quiet readers lurking somewhere: If you took the time to read this story, please be so kind as to tell me how you liked it or if maybe where are things I could improve on. I understand if you sometimes don't review but I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts at the end of the story.

 _Please review!_


	10. 10: Epilogue

**I wanted to delete the first part of this last chapter but thought you might enjoy it anyway.**

 **The latter part of this story takes place during chapter 60 of 'War of Elves'.**

* * *

Steeling himself for what was to come, the elf raised his fist and knocked against the walnut wood.

„Come in!", a terse voice sounded. His father relaxed upon seeing it was Soread who entered the chambers his parents' shared.

„Ion-nin," he frowned. „The hour is late. How can we help you?"

His mother who had been lounging on the settee opposite his father's sat up and straightened, her braid lose. Her eyes instantly narrowed down on the pack by Soread's side. „Are you leaving us?" She asked, eyes shining with sadness and resignation.

„I intend so, yes. However, once I have said what I have come to say you will wish for me to leave anyway." None of his fear accompanied his words though it was beating so loudly through his veins he nearly expected them to hear it anyway. Slowly setting his pack down, he continued to stand uncomfortably.

„Ah, yes, I recall you barely got a word in between your siblings? Have you come to tell us how irresponsible it was for us to have another child? How cruel we were to make that decision? How his life will be full of pain and that it will be our fault?" The words were bitter and accusing and they cut deep into Soread's soul for he knew that he still felt anger towards his parents for that exact decision. He might never have voiced the words his father had now spoken but both his parents had known he had agreed with his siblings, going further than any of them and leave Greenwood entirely as a consequence. Soread had been surprised he had been forgiven so easily upon his return but now it seemed his father too had enjoyed the few days while they lasted all while waiting for his son's scorn to fall upon him.

„I shall not dishonour either of us by claiming I did not feel that way," he slowly admitted, fingers nestling at the end of his belt. „And I must admit I still do not understand. However, I have come to learn that I have no right to judge you. I can't even say I would not have made the same decision of conceiving a child had I a beautiful wife by my side. But my baby brother is not what I am here to talk about, if you allow."

His father frowned over the rim of his wineglass but his shoulders relaxed. Putting the wine aside, he leant forward to place his elbows on his knees and look at Soread, giving him his full attention. His mother seemed surprised and her face turned to one of worry, hands folding the fabric of her shirt hem in the nervous fashion Soread had copied from her long ago.

„I have gone against your words, Ada. When I saw a group of men I disregarded your counsel."

His father's eyes widened and he placed his wineglass on the table without looking. He leant forward, folded his hands. „Please, ion-nin, tell me you have not given your heart to one of them."

A surge of anger flooded Soread: „Never!", he spat, a snarl on his face, muscles tense.

His father leant back, surprise flittering over his features and his brows raising high as he looked at Soread. Soread attempted to clear his face from the scorn he felt but he could tell by the searching looks that it was by far too late.

"What happened then, ion-nin?" His mother sat calmly, dread having snuck into her voice.

Soread wanted to answer but the words would not fall. With burning eyes he stood before his parents, his cheeks reddened and the tears close. They would scorn him. How could they ever accept his weakness? His fingers trembled as he started to unbutton his shirt, glancing through a layer of salty water obscuring his view.

"What are you doing?" His father demanded to know, his voice so harsh it almost could cut through steel. Swallowing thickly, Soread did not reply. When all buttons were open, he shrugged out of his shirt.

"My son," his father bemoaned, sounding choked. Soread could not help but chuckle darkly, the tears starting to fall. His parents had only seen his narrow form, they had yet to see the battlefield of scars covering his back. His own dark amusement giving him the strength to do so, the mapper turned around. Raising his chin he stared against the wall, muscles tightening into thick coils beneath the scarred skin.

"I just allowed this to happen. I did not even attempt to fight them," he admitted, his words slurred despite his best efforts of speaking past the lump in his throat.

„Of course you did not." Anger in his mother's voice, words quick as lightening.

Closing his eyes, Soread pressed his lips together, lips and chin trembling, hands balled to fists. Hands touched his cheeks and he flinched involuntarily, tensing. His mother had walked around him to face him. Warm palms against his cool skin. Then the soft pads of thumbs brushing against his closed eyelids. Gathering the courage to face the ire awaiting him, Soread gasped for air before forcing his eyes open.

She did not look angry. A frown marring her forehead, his mother seemed more contemplative.

„Of course you did not", she said, thumbs brushing stray tears away. „You are naive, ion-nin. Terribly naive. You always were. You trust in the good of everything and go against your elders when their words seem too unbelievable to you. You are naive and you are curious. I know you and I would not have you any other way." And then she embraced him. Arms wrapped around his frail frame and warm hands met his back. Paying his scars no heed, her hands rubbed over his back without tracing the faint lines. Just her hands on his naked skin.

Soread stared straight ahead, choking on emotion while he still attempted to understand what his mother had said. He was not one to enjoy hugging, never had been in fact relishing in the comfort only seldom.

Strong arms wrapped around him from the side, a large hand gently forcing his head against his father's chest and then lips pressed against his temple.

"It is not your fault, my beloved son." Dark as honey, his father's soothing words washed over him and he felt them vibrating in his chest as the older elf continued to hold Soread and his mother, his hand carding lovingly through his hair just as he had done when Soread had been an elfling still.

* * *

 ** _Centuries later_**

* * *

"I need help here," Elrond bellowed, stepping away from the elf who lashed out against him. Summoned by his yell, a wood elf appeared out of thin air, silver hair spilling over narrow shoulders and a loose blue shirt. Almost instantly his patient calmed, his breathing heavy as he stared at the new elf. A few words were spoken, soft and calm and the heaving elf nodded, grimacing when he shifted.

The silver-haired elf turned and Elrond froze. It was Soread.

The cup of tea was taken from his hands and handed to the injured elf, Soread paying him no mind, not even reacting in any way to his presence.

"Soread?" Surprise covered the slight hurt to not be recognized as Elrond stopped his friend from leaving. The elf stopped, now looking at the Noldo for the first time, meeting brown eyes with his silver own. Then a short, confused smile.

"I am Nehara, not Soread, my Lord," the elf said and straightened. His speech carried more levels than Soread's had ever done, not the polite blandness the mapper never fully stripped. Instead, even these few words were accentuated and ranged across a larger vocal scale. "You know my brother?"

Relief had Elrond laugh but he was interrupted by a scream and before he could reply, Nehara had already darted away, rushing to the next elf, grasping her shoulders and holding her down even as the Mirkwood healer Feras was searching for the source of blood dripping to the floor in the wide stomach wound.

Elrond watched his friend's brother for a while, astounded how alike he looked to Soread. Then a load moan pulled him from his thoughts and he jerked upwards, his focus shifting back to the injured elves. The next hour was spent rushing from one bedside to the next, gloves discarded and replaced with the ones that had been cleaned by helpers in the meantime, blood soaking through bandages, sewing wounds closed with steady hands and the screams echoing in his ears until they slowly faded with the help of teas, herbs and bloodloss. When Elrond looked around once more, he found the healing ward had calmed down. The beds were occupied, some of the healers had already left, others were making slow rounds. Only now did Elrond have the time to recall Soread's brother and he looked around in search for the familiar-looking elf, only to be disappointed when he could not find him. Sighing, Elrond resigned himself to not seeing Soread today, though meeting his friend's brother had certainly quipped his curiosity. And his worry since Nehara was too thin to be healthy and remembering Soread's eating habits, he doubted his friend would be in better shape. Somewhere in the dark of his memories, he recalled that Soread had mentioned that of all his siblings he was closest to Nehara and considered him not only as his brother but also as his best friend.

A few minutes later found Elrond in the King's presence. Though the relationship between Imladris and Mirkwood and thus the two leaders had improved greatly during the last few weeks, being alone in the large command room Thranduil had set up close to the gates was a discomforting feeling for Elrond. A set of twin knives was carefully placed on a wooden display on a desk and the room was dominated by a large table with a map upon it, hundreds of tin figures placed across it, some shining in natural silver, others painted black. Once again it was a map by Soread's hand. Despair and fear washed over Elrond when he looked down, so much that he stumbled and had to grasp the table's edge. A headache suddenly crashed into his forehead from inside his skull. It was so dark. The fear seeped out of the black lines of ink, angry slashes covering the firm paper.

"We can build up a new hospital in this area. It should be close enough to the major fight points and is close to the border. If we can hold it or even gain a few more miles, having a hospital in this position could prove invaluable. If we built up a street along this ravine, we even have a path passing several outposts, so it would be easier to protect." Thranduil mused out loud, speaking about the issue which for he had asked for Elrond's presence in the first place. He did not seem to notice the effect the map had on his guest.

"Ai, what a terrible map," Elrond mumbled, massaging his temples. This caused Thranduil to look up sharply.

"It is not," he spat icily. "This map is awesome in its detail and invaluable in its information. You might not know how to read a Silvan map but many notes linger in these lines you will not even notice if I were to point them out!"

"Peace. That is not what I meant. I recognize the skill and beauty in this map, yet the feelings it awakens in me are dark and oppressing just as the land itself is. Your cartographer is a true artist." Soread's signature shone firmly in one corner, the letters elegant and the curves intermingled with the tops of trees.

"I met Soread once, you know," Elrond mused as he lost himself in the map before him. He adored the ones Soread had gifted him so long ago, those of more peaceful lands. No-one could catch the essence of a land the way the cartographer had. It was breath-taking and scary at the same time.

"I … beg your pardon?" Thranduil spoke up in surprise, looking up from the map before him.

"Soread. I met him."

"Here. You met him here," Thranduil stated but the frown on his brow proofed he wasn't completely sure of his statement.

Smiling, Elrond shook his head. He missed the young cartographer. In Imladris his rooms were still kept closed, no one entering them. Despite the shortness of his visits and the long time since passed, Elrond still insisted on keeping these chambers in case the wood elf should ever return. His sons had teased him for it, Glorfindel just frowned at him whenever he brought the cartographer up and only Celebrian simply accepted it. He had promised the young elf he would always have a place in Imladris. Elrond had barely known the other elf, yet Soread had somehow managed to stay in his thoughts. His politeness and enthusiasm for his work had endeared him to the healer and he found himself wondering why the cartographer had never returned to Imladris as he had promised to. He had promised to tell Elrond his brother's name. For a long time, he had had to wonder. Surely the elf had returned home? Or was he still travelling Arda, all alone, with little food and even fewer regards to his eating habits? Or was he gone, killed by a pack of wolfs or orcs? Maybe he had travelled into far lands unknown to any elf or maybe the call of the sea had reached him. Elrond simply had not known, yet he had continued to hope he would see the elf again one day.

When Legolas had smiled, saying that he knew Soread, that in fact, he had grown up using and learning from the maps drawn by the cartographer, Elrond had felt excited. The young Thranduillion had told him Soread was still alive and well, staying in Mirkwood.

"No. I met him a few centuries ago," Elrond replied to the King. "He stayed at Imladris for a few weeks. I have grown very fond of him and see him as a close friend. His skill is as admirable as his person."

"He what?" The foreign leader cut in, leaning in closer and causing Elrond to look up to meet his cold gaze. Thranduil's eyes were narrowed and an odd mixture of disbelief and outright shock stood in his features.

"He stayed at Imladris and I see him as a close friend," Elrond repeated, feeling irritation well up within him. The other would not dare to hold this friendship over the cartographer, would he?

The King straightened. He pressed with two fingers against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Then he suddenly started chuckling. The deep sound vibrated in Thranduil's chest, pleasantly filling the air with its honesty. Imladris' Lord relaxed though a confused frown replaced the irritated one. The chuckling turned into a laugh the Sinda could apparently not contain. Elrond felt his own lips tug upwards, the laugh too contagious to resist and yet, he did not understand what the other elf was even laughing about. In the end, the healer lost against his twitching lips and a full smile spread on his face and made his kind eyes glow up like a lantern in a dark night.

It took several minutes until Thranduil caught his breath. He had to brush away a few tears and the grin that stayed gave the strong elf such an approachable look it was almost impossible to recognize him as the cold-faced King of Mirkwood many elves knew. His hand had caught on the side of the table, white-knuckled in its effort to keep the shaking elf upright. Now, his fingers let go of the rough wood and he brushed his long hair back.

„What is it?" Elrond asked, his own lips still twitching. He could not recall ever having heard Thranduil laugh before.

„It simply explains so much," Thranduil said more to himself than to his guest, still smiling while shaking his head in disbelief. Then he suddenly looked up, blue eyes warm for once. „Do you want me to bring you to him?"

„You know him?"

Thranduil raised a brow. „He is my cartographer, Elrond."

Pride welled up in the healer even though he knew the mapper's success had nothing to do with him. Still, hearing that the King knew his young friend on what seemed to be more than fleeting acquaintance was surely a sign of Soread's prowess with his maps. It must mean a lot to the talented, loyal elf to directly serve his King.

„I'd appreciate it greatly," he said honestly and brought his hand towards his chest in a sign of thanks that was to his surprise waved away. Questions about Soread's eating habits floated through his head, yet he could hardly ask the King about it and so he remained silent.

Thranduil led Elrond through winding tunnels and wide-open spaces, higher into the mountain. Elrond, who had fully lost his orientation about four corners and two winding sets of stairs ago, began to wonder where the elf was leading him. Just as he was about to ask, Thranduil stopped in a wide corridor. The grand door before him bore the carving of a giant tree. The door was by far taller than either of them and the Sinda opened the right-wing and held it open for Elrond to step through.

The room beyond was marvellous. A high ceiling was held aloft by thin pillars, winding upwards in elegant spirals. Large cabinets were filing the walls, each harbouring thousands of honey-comb-formed case boards. And most combs were filled with a rolled-up parchment. Elven runes were cut into the upper part of the cabinets, showing what kind of maps they harboured. Most of them bore names Elrond recognized of places part of Greenwood, others, however, were not. He saw one cabinet named Gondor, one Rohan and another bore the name of his own valley, though this one was almost bare. In the back, large tables stood amongst the pillars and the filing cabinets for maps were replaced by low cupboards harbouring ink and tools, a shelf on the other side providing leather and large pieces of parchment and paper.

Light streamed through three large windows and fell upon the only occupied table. Soread sat before the table, silver hair held back by a piece of leather, sharp eyes focused on the delicate lines he was drawing upon the parchment before him. He wore sturdy yet fine clothes of wood elven make. A pair of dark boots, trousers in a deep moss green, a shirt in a shade of green so dark it almost appeared black and a leather tunic of wood green and bark brown.

"Soread," Elrond smiled his heart lightening of a burden he had not known he carried. However, the elf did not react to his voice, did not even lift his chin to acknowledge another presence.

"He often loses himself in his work," Thranduil explained lightly and stepped towards the table. Long fingers carelessly picked up an inkwell and moved it to the side. Then he stepped back, leaning against another table. Elrond came closer and watched as his friend – he truly did look as terrible as Elrond had feared; did that elf never learn to eat enough? – added thin lines to the sea of black ink on the parchment, connecting strokes and therefore quickly turning random ink lines into the breathtaking, raw wilderness of Mirkwood. Soread moved his quill and of course missed the moved inkwell. Instantly, a sharp frown appeared between his brows and he looked up. The cartographer blinked as he took in the King standing before him.

„Forgive me. I had not noticed your presence," Soread said with his amicable smile. Standing, he reconquered his inkwell and quickly screwed the lid on, placing his quill alongside other tools on a piece of leather.

„It is of no consequence. What are you working on?" The King's voice was smooth and at ease, his demeanour implying he held some fondness for the cartographer.

„A map of the southern routes of Mirkwood. There will be need for these maps at the border, outdated as the information in them might be," Soread replied evenly, visibly holding himself back from continuing to bore his King with details of his map-making.

Thranduil nodded and brought a hand to his chest in a rare sign of thanks. Then, he gestured towards Elrond. „I brought you a guest."

Soread turned and his eyes widened.

„It is good to see you again, mellon." Elrond grinned, kind eyes sparkling with joy.

"My Lord Elrond?" Soread questioned before his shock faded into a bright smile like that of an elfling upon receiving a gift. "My Lord!" He almost yelled. Two long strides and then Elrond was engulfed in an embrace. As he returned the hug, he could feel each individual rib underneath the elf's clothing.

Soread held tightly onto Elrond and when he stepped back, laughter rang through the wide room. „Lord Elrond!" he repeated.

„Yes, it is I," Elrond smirked in amusement, relief fresh in his veins as he took in how happy the cartographer seemed. Centuries had passed yet the elf was still a dear friend and would remain so for centuries to come. „I am certain had Celebrian known you would be here, she would have asked me to extend her love to you. Well, more likely she would have come along to see you again as well."

The mapper smiled and his eyes searched Elrond's face, his disbelief clearly written in his features.

„It is truly good to see you again, my friend," Elrond said. Then he gripped Soread's shoulders and he asked the question that his friend had promised to answer the next time they met: „What is your brother's name, Soread?" A slight worry gnawed at his heart. He hoped Soread had not only returned to Greenwood but returned to his family, had returned to learn his brother's name. The elf had needed it.

The cartographer's eyes brightened and the wide smile turned softer. Relief shone in the short closing of his eyes. „His name is Salogel."

Elrond sighed and smiled, squeezed the elf's shoulders and then let go of him.

"The Silvans are an odd people," Thranduil suddenly said, his voice warm. Surprised by his sudden interference, the healer turned to him. Thranduil was smirking slightly though it seemed he tried to tone it down. "Trust me, I know. I married one. They have a saying. Ille amnje astalon umne gea ish harom est illium. Freely translated: To know something as well as your own name. Or to know someone as well as their name. You know your own name. You know it forwards and backwards. You can spell it a thousand times and not spell it wrong. There is nothing in this world you know the way you know your name."

"Why are you telling me this?" The healer frowned, not understanding the entire situation he suddenly found himself in. The fact that the King had not left had been unexpected but it was his castle after all. Still, Thranduil had joined the short conversation with his young friend and the amusement still clung eerily welcoming and warm to the normally aloof King.

"When a Silvan reaches mastery in a skill, he is allowed to sign his work. In order to show he knows it as well as he knows his own name, he will spell his name backwards."

Elrond laughed, shaking his head. "What are you trying to tell me, Thranduil?" He wondered, the King's smile having caught onto the healer once again.

"Spelled backwards, Elrond," Thranduil replied and if one listened to his tone of voice one might have easily mistaken the two elves for close friends. His long elegant fingers tapped onto the finished map that the mapper had been using as a reference which was spread before him on the high table.

"Soread," Elrond spoke the cartographer's name and looked down on another, already finished the map where the Silvan's signature shone on the firm parchment. "Daer-" Elrond read backwards and broke into a cough once he noticed what Thranduil had wanted to tell him. "Daeros!" Wide eyes stared at the King before him who once again broke into laughter. He then turned to Soread who simply smiled.

"What a fool you are, Elrond. Not just one but two of my sons directly under your nose and you did not even recognize them. My son is Soread. He is Mirkwood's finest cartographer and apparently, he was the guest you entertained in your home so many years ago. All my maps are by his hand, my son's hand." Pride rang in the deep voice, pride and amusement. Thranduil stepped up next to the mapper and for a moment, his hand rested on Soread's shoulder. Meanwhile, Elrond was struggling to breathe between his coughs.

„You owe me a fine story, Daeros," Thranduil said more seriously, giving his son a scolding glance to which the polite smile returned to Soread's face.

„Ai, Ada. I owe you more than one."

* * *

 ** _Please review!_**

 **This is what I had in mind when I first started writing 'The Cartographer of Greenwood'. Some of you might not like this ending and you are welcome to simply ignore it. I would love to hear your opinions though. Did any of you notice what I did before this chapter? Or is this a surprise to all of you?**

 **I have some of a following conversation written but I don't feel like it fits in this story. If you are interested in reading it, send me a PM and I will sent it to you via PM. Keep in mind it is barely more than a few lines, maybe 400 words, not more**


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